Blackbird's Song
by Red'sDeadBaby
Summary: Arthur Morgan is grudgingly entering the end of the age of outlaws with his gang, the only thing he still holds dear. Wilhelmina Thorne is a woman single-mindedly hellbent for revenge on her no-good brother. Their paths cross, over and over again. They both find they need to re-examine some things. Slow burn! Fix-It! No TB! Starting with Ch 14 this story contains (tasteful?) smut!
1. Valentine - A Fine Day for Hunting

Arthur Morgan's steely blue-green eyes narrowed at the crudely drawn face that stared back from the bounty poster. "Wilhelmina Thorne…"

The sheriff of Valentine wasted no time interrupting his thoughts. "Wanted for murder, if you can believe it. We hardly ever get bounties for womenfolk, but it seems like this one ain't from 'round here. Nobody seems to recognize her, and the fact that drawin' ain't too good doesn't help much neither. Bounty's thirty dollars, if you're interested."

Arthur gently tugged the poster down off the wall, turning back to the sheriff as he folded it and tucked it into his satchel. "Yeah, think I might take you up on that. Findin' that Allbright fella weren't too hard, and I could surely use the money…"

The sheriff nodded. "Murder happened last night, right here in town. Fella saw her tryin' to drag the body over to that pigpen out back a ways. Tryin' to…dispose of it, I reckon." The man looked at Arthur meaningfully.

The hard line of Arthur's mouth slid down into a grimace and he nodded once. He tipped his hat to the sheriff and made his way back out into the dusty main street of the little livestock town.

Thirty dollars weren't much, but every little bit would help the van der Linde gang. They had taken a series of hard blows after Dutch's botched ferry robbery in Blackwater, and had been on the run for just over two months now. About half of that time had been spent struggling north and east through the Grizzlies, a rugged and unforgiving track of mountains where spring blizzards had dogged them incessantly.

They had lost a few good folk along the way, not to mention all of the money they'd managed to steal back in Blackwater. His family seemed to be picking up the pieces now that they had settled into warmer climes in the Heartlands, and Dutch finally seemed to be coming back to himself, but they needed money to stay ahead of those bounty hunters and Pinkerton detectives. Always needed money.

Arthur ruminated on all this as he made his way around the back of the sheriff's office, spotting the farmhouse with the pigpen not 50 feet away. He carefully watched the ground as he ambled closer, taking into consideration some spots of blood that had dried into the arid dirt track. There were too many footprints back here to get a clear view of what happened, but he could see smoothed down places where the body had been dragged over from behind the saloon.

The most obvious direction she'd have fled would have been the road heading north out of town, but that weak assumption was all he had to go on. He figured he'd have to recruit Charles to help him with this one; the big man's tracking skills were far superior to his own.

* * *

 **THE NEXT MORNING**

"So what you think, Charles?" Arthur drawled as his horse followed close behind the other man's. They were traveling north from Valentine after having asked around the saloon to glean any more information they could about this bounty.

Charles glanced back at Arthur, raising his focus from the road. "I think finding out what kind of horse she's riding was our luckiest break. And I think you were right about her fleeing north, taking the closest road when she was spotted."

Charles straightened up in the saddle, rolling his shoulders. "I think we should search around Cumberland Forest. It's only been a few days. If she knows she's wanted, she'll probably be more likely to try to lay low, wait for some of the heat to pass before moving on."

Arthur nodded. "Maybe hidin' in plain sight? Sheriff seems to think she ain't a local. Most folk around here probably wouldn't take much notice."

Charles hummed in agreement, leading them off the main road to take a trail that would lead them up the hillside and to a better vantage point. Cumberland Forest was by no means a dense thicket of tree cover, but its rolling hills meant there was still plenty of space for one lone woman to get lost in. If she was even still in the area.

After surveying the landscape with binoculars, the two men decided it would be wise to split up. Arthur headed north through the forest towards the Dakota River, while Charles took a path northeasterly in the direction of Fort Wallace.

Willa was having a good dream. She had finally caught Everett, snake that he was. No good, dirty, devil bastard that he was. She had a revolver cocked, the barrel nestled firmly in the spot right between his eyebrows. She was about to pull the trigger, when someone somewhere very close yelled, "Hey miss!"

Willa's eyes flew open, her body twisted, and all of a sudden there was nothing beneath her. She let out a strangled squawk as she landed hard on the ground, about 12 feet below the massive branch of the tree she had spent the previous night clinging to.

The woman just lay there for a minute, groaning and rolling weakly back and forth.

Charles smirked. He was sitting atop his horse Taima, the reins of a beautiful silver dapple pinto Missouri Fox Trotter held loosely in one hand. He had found the horse (matching the description of the one their bounty had been riding) some hundred feet away, grazing in the grass.

He cleared his throat and eased himself down off Taima, letting his free hand rest easily on the holster at his hip. "This your horse, miss?"

The woman squinted one eye open and rolled up slowly on an elbow, observing the dark skinned man that stood in front of her. "Why yes, that is my Tulip. Where'd you find her?"

"A few yards back, grazing." Charles thought he should choose his words carefully, but he had to ask. "Why were you up in that tree?"

The woman groaned and forced herself to her feet, dusting herself off rather fruitlessly. "She bucked me last night while we were riding. Wolves came up over the ridge and spooked her. I climbed that tree and…" She shrugged, digging a toe in the dirt. "Hoped she'd be safe on her own. I managed to shoot one of 'em, but I got about five whole bullets left to my name. Wolves stayed here and howled up at me most of the night, which was good for her I guess."

Charles nodded. "What's your name, miss?"

The woman bent down to retrieve a battered old cavalry hat that had fallen a few feet away. She cleared her throat. "Loretta…van Buren."

Again, Charles nodded slowly. He took a moment, then handed the reins of the horse over to 'Loretta'. "Can I bring you somewhere, Miss van Buren? I've got a friend in the area; if you'd like to ride with me to meet him, we can make sure you get to wherever it is you need to go. Back to Valentine?"

Her eyes narrowed and she shook her head. "That's kind of you, but I'm heading west. What's the closest town, Blackberry?"

Charles huffed out a small laugh and shook his head. "Strawberry. It's about a day's ride southwest of here. We'd be happy to see you on your way. My friend has a map, if you'd like to take a look at it?"

The woman considered his offer, then nodded a little apprehensively. "Alright. That would be…that would probably be wise." She took Tulip's reins from Charles and climbed up into the saddle, giving the horse's neck an affectionate rub.

Charles mounted Taima and turned her towards the road heading west.

As they rode, the woman would glance around furtively from time to time. Charles noticed these things; noticed her fidgeting, and the uncomfortable silence. "My name is Charles, by the way. My friend's name is Arthur."

'Loretta' nodded, before extending a hand to point out a mounted figure on the road ahead of them. "Is that your friend?"

Charles gave her an affirmative, edging Taima into a trot to meet up with the man. When they pulled their horses up next to each other, Arthur gave a low whistle. "Who's your new friend, Charles?"

Charles dismounted, leading Taima off to the side of the road and encouraging 'Loretta' to do the same. "Met her up the road a ways. She's trying to get to Strawberry. Told her you had a map she could use to get her bearings before we see her off safely." Charles gave Arthur a meaningful stare.

Arthur huffed out a small laugh and nodded his head, dismounting and following them off the road. He pulled his riding gloves off and dug around in his horse's saddlebag for the map he kept there. The woman edged closer to him, crossing her arms across her chest; she was obviously eager to take a look at the map and be on her way.

Arthur glanced over, hands still working inside the saddlebag. "Your friend got a name, Charles?"

Before the woman could give a name herself, Charles was already answering. "This is Miss Wilhelmina Thorne. Wilhelmina, this is my good friend Arthur Morgan."

"Nice to make your acquaintance, Mr. Mor…oh." A pause. "Shit!"

Things happened very fast after that. Arthur whipped a revolver out of the saddlebag instead of a map, and when Willa tried to make a break for her horse, Charles' large frame was planted firmly in the way. He grabbed her and in one swift motion, pinned her arms behind her back and kicked her to her knees in the dirt.

Arthur strode over with his revolver pointed squarely at her, squatting down to check underneath the black duster she wore for any weapons. He pulled a pistol off her hip and tossed it away into the dirt, then did the same with a good-sized hunting knife.

She cursed and struggled. "Let me go, you bastards! I'm innocent! I swear!"

Arthur chuckled in that deep, slightly lazy way he had. "I'm sure you are, miss." His hands worked surely with a rope he had produced to bind her hands and feet, and before she knew it she was being slung over the man's shoulder as easily as a sack of grain.

"Bring the weapons and the horse, Charles. We'll take 'em back to camp. Probably fetch a good price for the mare later on."

"No! Not Tulip, _goddamn you_!" Wilhelmina writhed as Arthur slung her over the back of his own horse. Her hat got flipped back behind her head and she sputtered as the chin strap choked her for a second before loosening. "I swear I did not kill that man! I was… I was trying to help a saloon girl!"

Arthur shook his head as he mounted the Morgan he'd just bought about a week ago. "Sure you were! Goddamn, tryin' to feed the body to the pigs though…"

" _That was her idea!_ " Wilhelmina shrieked from behind him, continuing to struggle against the ropes that bound her. Arthur spurred his horse into a trot, with Charles leading the Missouri Fox Trotter along behind them.

As the horses were coming around a bend pressed into a hillside, a shot rang out from behind the tall rock face in front of them. Arthur barely had time to lift a hand to the top of his head to feel that his hat had been shot clean off before the Morgan whinnied in fear and reared, tipping Wilhelmina right off and nearly throwing him as well.

"Shit! Charles, get back!" He pulled the horse into a tight turn and galloped back around, trying to gain some distance before leaping down to the ground and giving the horse's rump a stiff slap to set it running.

An Irish voice shouted from where the shot had come. "Dutch's dogs! This is O'Driscoll territory, ya fookin' dogs! Get 'em, boys!"

Suddenly, men were surrounding them from the trees and behind the rocks and from above them on the hill. Arthur cursed to himself and grabbed the rifle he had slung over his shoulder, ducking behind a boulder. He could hear the Thorne woman shrieking on the ground a few yards away. He cursed again and glanced back to check on Charles.

Charles - blessed man that he was - was already wielding the sawed off shotgun he always carried, blasting off shells at the O'Driscolls who had appeared above them. One of them gave a yell and tumbled down, landing with a sickening thud next to Miss Thorne. This caused her shrieking to increase in tenor and ferocity.

"Goddamnit!" Arthur dropped the rifle and flourished his revolver, dashing out from behind the boulder. He put down a few of the boys that were coming up on horseback in front of them and managed to grab the screaming woman by one ankle, dragging her back behind the boulder as he continued to fire. He could feel bullets whizzing by on either side as he dropped back into cover behind the rock.

"Cut me loose! For Christ's sake, cut me loose goddamn you! I'll help you fight 'em off! Please!"

His mouth etched into a mighty frown, he only spared her a brief glare before holstering the revolver and taking the rifle back up. He inched up over the top of the rock to take aim at a few more of their assailants, dropping three in quick succession but there seemed to be a stream of reinforcements. Apparently Colm O'Driscoll was not short on men these days.

Behind them, Charles' shotgun could be heard firing more shots in as quick a succession as a shotgun could manage, but a pause signified his changing positions. Before Arthur knew what was happening, Charles was crouched beside them, knife in one hand, haphazardly sawing at the woman's bindings. He paused twice to shoot at two more O'Driscolls rounding the corner around the rock face, but two shells were all the shotgun would hold at a time. Before he could reload, he cut Wilhelmina's hands and feet free, grabbed the revolver out of Arthur's holster and slammed it into one of her palms.

" _Charles_!?" Arthur yelled accusingly, but he had to focus on the fight. He couldn't stop shooting to chide the man or even to make sure the girl wasn't going to shoot them both in the back and run.

But Wilhelmina was up on one knee in a heartbeat, taking careful aim at the tree line. She picked off six of the O'Driscolls before the revolver was out of bullets, each shot hitting its mark. With the woman's help, Charles and Arthur were able to make quick work of the rest of their assailants.

When the shooting finally stopped, all three of them collectively sagged and took a deep breath. Remarkably, all of them were unharmed. Arthur sank back against the boulder, letting the rifle rest in his lap. Wilhelmina got to her feet, looked awkwardly at the revolver in her hand for a moment and then held it out to him, grip first. She rather hoped it would impress the man as a peace offering.

Arthur raised his eyes to her, wearily lifting one hand to rub the week's worth of stubbly beard on his face. He reached out and took the revolver with the other. He gave her a small nod, slipping it back into the holster on his hip.

Charles' voice broke whatever odd moment they were having. "You alright? I'm going to try to round up the horses…"

Arthur nodded, slinging the rifle back over his shoulder as he got to his feet. "Good idea." He stepped around the boulder, mumbling. "Find my damn hat…" He zeroed in on the old black hat with the leather cord tied around the brim, tipped at an unruly angle in the dirt a few yards away.

Wilhelmina watched pensively as he stooped to pick it up and dust it off before placing it back on his head.

"Friends of yours?" she finally managed.

Arthur huffed as he walked back to her. "Oh yes. Old friends." He bent down and grabbed the ropes that Charles had cut off her wrists and ankles. "Now c'mon, let's do this the easy way, please…"

Wilhelmina's jaw dropped and she backed away, putting her hands up. "I was tellin' you the truth! I didn't kill that man! And I just saved your life, you ungrateful fool!"

Arthur narrowed his eyes. "Well a fool I may be, but I am just about _one hundred_ percent certain we could'a handled that on our own! 'Bout how _I_ see it, is he saved your life by cuttin' you free. Only for a few minutes longer though, and barrin' you made the right choice 'bout what came after…"

Wilhelmina rolled her eyes then pointed a finger at his face. She had already started speaking again before she realized it probably was not a good idea to point a finger in this man's face. "I. Am. Tellin'. You. The. Truth. I _was_ followin' that man, and I followed him into Valentine, and up to one of the rooms in the saloon-" Her mouth quirked into a grimace. "-To _confront_ him. When I opened the door, this little slip of a thing in nothing but her pantaloons was holding a bloody knife in her hand and he was dead on the bed, not even cold yet. She started beggin' me to help her, and I…I felt _bad_. She said he was beatin' her…and before I knew it…" She trailed off, her renewed frustration ebbing as quickly as it had arrived.

"Before you knew it you got caught tryin' to feed him to the hogs?"

She huffed an affirmative breath from her nose and nodded.

Arthur let a sigh escape, crossing his arms and taking his first good look at Miss Wilhelmina Thorne. Her thick dark hair was halfway pulled out of a messy bun at the back of her head. Rather thick, dark eyebrows furrowed over her clear brown eyes. She had a smattering of freckles across her face and a scar at the soft corner where her lips met. She couldn't have been 30 yet, and by her accent he could tell she was not from anywhere near New Hanover.

She was wearing black ranch pants tucked into a pair of well-worn boots. A dark green flannel was tucked into the pants, a few buttons undone at the collar. A black bandana was tied around her neck and the black duster sat over it all. She was clearly dressed for the road.

Arthur cleared his throat and reached into his satchel for a packet of cigarettes, carefully tapping one out. He was about to put it away, but then for some reason he found himself holding the pack out towards her instead.

Wilhelmina chewed her lip for a moment before plucking out one of the cigarettes and mumbling a thank you. Arthur struck a match off his boot and lit hers before he lit his own.

She took a deep drag, closing her eyes for a few moments. "So…you still plannin' on takin' me in, mister?"

Arthur looked up to meet her gaze and huffed out another sigh. "Shit. You did help us out with those O'Driscolls…but how'm I supposed to believe you _ain't_ a killer after what I just seen?"

"Just cause I didn't kill that man don't mean I haven't had practice shootin'. Look, obviously you two boys ain't so innocent yourselves. Whatever you're tangled up in with those O'Driscoll fools, whoever _they_ are, it ain't no business of mine. And whether you believe me or not, I _was_ looking for that man, but I _don't_ deserve to be hung for killin' him. Now, I'd like to believe you'd let me go out of the goodness of your heart…but I've got some money. I'll pay you whatever they're offering for the bounty if you just let me alone, okay?"

They both looked over as Charles crested the rise behind them, riding Taima and leading the other two horses along. He slowed to a stop a few feet away, waiting to see what would happen.

Arthur dropped the butt of his cigarette in the dirt and crushed it under his boot, the last of the smoke pluming from his nostrils. "Fine. Money's money. If you've got thirty dollars to hand over, I guess you're free to go."

Wilhelmina bowed her head and walked over to Tulip, running a hand gently along the mare's toned neck and flank and patting it gently before stopping at the saddlebag. She pulled out a money clip, licked her thumb and flicked through a few of the bills before pulling them free and extending them out towards Charles.

Charles' eyes flicked back to Arthur briefly before he reached out and took the money from Wilhelmina, nodding to her. "Thank you, miss."

Some time after they had parted ways with Miss Thorne, the two men were on their way back to Horseshoe Overlook. Charles let out a small snort, reminiscing on their encounter. "That woman was quite a shot. You think she was telling the truth?"

Arthur hummed. "Dunno. Don't matter too much now, one way or the other. Somethin' tells me we won't see her again."


	2. Valentine - A Pound of Flesh

**A WEEK LATER**

Arthur guided his horse off the road and up a dirt track that led to a small ranch house. He was on an errand to collect some debt money from one Mr. Thomas Downes.

He hated collecting debts for that sniveling Austrian Strauss more than just about anything else he did for the gang. Always felt wrong, somehow, having to beat and threaten money out of desperate people who started out with none and - more often than not - had none with which to pay them back. Even if this was legal, he much preferred a good honest robbery any day.

He took a deep breath, tensing his muscles and puffing himself up, trying to get into the enforcer's mindset. Angry. Impatient. Snide. Intimidating. Arthur dismounted from his horse (who he still hadn't named, poor beast) and strode towards the main house.

He faltered and quickly slipped into the shade of a stand of trees when he realized there was a dark figure standing with a gun drawn in front of the garden off to his right. The gun was pointed at a sickly looking man, sitting on his keister in the dirt between two rows of tomato plants, hands up in a pathetic attempt at placation.

Arthur heard a woman's voice. Her face was obscured by an old cavalry hat. "You got some men stayin' here with you, Mr. Downes? They're bandits, ya know? Killers. Bad men. Sheriff probably wouldn't like it much if I mentioned to him you been harborin' outlaws…"

Downes trembled and sputtered into a small coughing fit. "I, please I… there _are_ some men, been payin' to sleep in our barn. My family needed the money! We didn't ask any questions! We don't know anything!"

Arthur watched the woman wave the pistol a little impatiently at Downes. "One of 'em named Everett? The leader? They here now?"

Downes shrugged, shaking his head. "They're usually out all day, most days. I, I'm sorry ma'am but what do you want from me? I swear, I don't know anything about 'em, or what they been doing!"

"Everett!" She stamped a spurred boot into the grass. "I want Everett goddamn it!"

Everyone whipped their heads around to look as the door to the house slammed open. A very frightened Mrs. Downes and a 17 or 18-year-old boy shuffled out through the front door, holding their hands limply above their heads. A trim man with slick black pomaded hair and a thin-cropped goatee came out close behind Mrs. Downes, a pistol pressed into the small of her back. He sported a scar that started under his left eye and curled down under his chin.

"Well hey there, little Mina! I was wonderin' when you were gonna show up. You always do, eventually, don't you…"

At this point Arthur had had about enough. He stepped out from amid the stand of trees and aimed his revolver at the man's head. "Now son, you'd be wise to let them folks go!"

Willa's jaw dropped. She should have expected Everett to pull a stunt like this, but why the _hell_ was that bounty hunter here all of a sudden? Maybe he was hunting Everett too? She heard Downes let out a strangled cry behind her.

"Edith! Archie! My God, please don't hurt them!" His whimpers turned into another pathetic fit of coughing.

The corner of Everett's mouth curled into a predatory grin. "Oh, you brought a friend this time? Probably wise, since _you_ ain't never been able to kill me yet, little sister." He ushered the Downes family forward, eyes shifting back and forth between Arthur and Wilhelmina.

Arthur thought he could hear hoof beats off behind the barn, but he did not let his attention waver from the man he could only assume was Everett. "I'm here on my own business. And I'd suggest, whatever it is you two need to sort out, you do it away from these folks."

The hoof beats got louder. Everett's grin widened even further. He positioned himself just so behind Archie, so that Arthur would not be able to get a clear shot at him.

"Mina dear, one of these days we will have to have a real sit-down chat, you and me. This silly game you're playin', while it has been entertaining, it's beginning to wear down my patience. I'm tired of lookin' over my shoulder for you. I've got better things to worry about." Everett reached his free hand inside the breast of the gray suit jacket he wore, brandishing a small pistol even as he kept the other gun pointed at Edith's back.

Willa's eyes flicked briefly to Arthur before returning to her brother. She saw that he didn't have a line of sight, and she couldn't even get a shot at Everett because Downes' wife was in the way. She was gripping her own pistol so tightly she could feel the cords in her forearm straining. "You son of a bitch…"

Everett erupted in a snort. "Our mother was a saint, dear heart. You, on the other hand…" He shrugged a shoulder, pointed the small pistol and fired.

Then, things happened quickly. The rider of that mystery horse suddenly came barreling out from behind the barn, horse lathered up in a full gallop.

Willa had screwed her eyes shut, sure her brother had shot her and that would finally be the sad end of it. After an agonizing second, she heard Mrs. Downes start to scream.

"Thomas!"

Arthur fired a shot at Everett, who turned towards the rider just in time to avoid a mortal wound. The bullet grazed his shoulder and he grunted, dropping one of his pistols. He in turn shot Arthur a glare full of evil promises as the rider caught his good arm and hoisted him up onto the back of the horse.

"Be a good little girl and go help that poor man I just shot! This is your last chance to forget about me, Mina!" Everett called over his shoulder as the horse was spurred back into a gallop. Arthur ran forward and fired a few more shots, but the horse made a beeline into the trees just in time.

"Christ!" Willa's head swiveled between the retreating horse and Thomas Downes. She stood frozen for a moment, desperation clear on her face.

Arthur rumbled, internally kicking himself. This was not how he'd imagined this day going at all. "Goddamnit, go on! I'll…I'll do somethin'…"

Willa opened her mouth, closed it, gave him a small nod, then hurriedly clambered up into Tulip's saddle and urged her off in the direction the men had disappeared.

Arthur stalked over towards the garden. Edith and Archie Downes were already there. Archie had a hand clamped over his mouth, wet tears brimming in his eyes. Edith wailed, her husband's limp hand clutched in her own. He was dead.

Arthur sighed, turning one way and then the other, flustered. Should he still ask for the money? Edith turned towards him sharply, her face a mask of rage and sorrow.

Arthur cleared his throat. "I'm, I came on behalf of Leopold Strauss, he lent your husband some money. Your husband knew the rules when he took it. Now, I'm real sorry about the way things turned out, but he had a choice. Ain't my fault about the way the world is…"

Edith's lip quivered. "Not even cold in the ground…" She bit her lip, bowing her head and hastily wiping at her tear-stained face. "He didn't have a choice! He was good, and he did good! There wasn't no choice in that…and you've as good as killed him yourself!"

After some more strained bickering with the woman and her son, Arthur eventually got Strauss' money. Truthfully, he felt like a real piece of shit about the whole thing. The only small consolation he could find was that it had been the money Everett Thorne paid them for being able to camp in their barn. But taking that bastard's money wouldn't bring back a dead husband and father, and it became yet another stark example that he was not there in any capacity that would afford him the ability to offer words of comfort. It was not his right to offer those words, nor did he believe he deserved to.

Arthur was bewildered by the whole encounter with Wilhelmina and her brother. He didn't think he had ever met two siblings with such a palpable chasm of hate between them. As he made his way back to camp that evening, thoughts of the Downes family were pushed from his mind as he began wondering about the Thorne siblings and whatever had led to that moment at the ranch house. And found himself hoping he wouldn't run into either of them again. They both seemed like more trouble he didn't need.


	3. Valentine - A Time for Reminiscing

**THE NEXT EVENING**

Arthur and Lenny made their way into Valentine as the afternoon gave way to evening. Arthur promised Dutch he'd take the boy out for a drink in town to calm his nerves. Poor kid had raced back to camp earlier that day, recounting how he had almost been lynched back in Strawberry all because Micah had to keep acting like a drunken blowhard every time he went out on a run anywhere. Arthur was getting real sick of that man's antics; sure as hell couldn't see whatever it was Dutch saw in him.

Arthur pushed through the double swinging doors, heading for the bar with Lenny on his heels. "Just one or two, right Arthur?"

Arthur leaned down on the bar, crossing his arms underneath his chest. "Course, just a drink! No big drama…"

He caught the bartender's attention to ask for some beer, and was immediately recognized and scolded about the fight he'd gotten into with Bill, Javier and Charles the week before. Lenny gave him a long sideways glance as the bartender finally acquiesced and slid two beers in front of the boys when Arthur threw him some extra change to get one for himself and assured the man there would be no further trouble.

"Micah seemed to know a lot of people…"

Arthur hummed, and Lenny continued. "That was the problem."

Arthur glanced sideways at him. "How you mean?"

"I _mean,_ I done seen a lot of crazy, crazy stuff, but-" Lenny was suddenly cut off because someone bumped hard into Arthur's other side, causing him to stumble over into Lenny.

Arthur smacked his beer down on the bar and turned towards the offender. "Now what-"

"Come onnn, sweet thing! Don't be like that! I'm just tryna be friendly here…"

"If you don't get your hands off me, my boot is gonna be real friendly with your ass, you lecherous ape!"

Arthur heaved a sigh and rolled his eyes about a mile. He put a firm hand on the man's shoulder" "C'mon fella, the lady obviously don't wanna be bothered…"

The man turned towards Arthur, belching sour alcohol breath into his face. "Ladies shouldn't go into bars if they don't wanna be _bothered_ , boy! What's it to you, anyhow? I saw her first."

Arthur shook his head. "Be quiet, buddy…."

The man huffed out a breathy laugh. "Oh, they're dullards! My lord, you men is dull!"

Lenny pressed a hand briefly to Arthur's arm. "Hey, leave this fool alone…"

Arthur's mouth curled into a sneer. He took a deep breath, turning back to the drunk fellow and clapping him on the shoulder. "Listen buddy…you're a charming fella. One of the best." He nodded back at Lenny encouragingly, then finally took a gander at the lady the drunk fellow had been trying to pick up. Arthur cleared his throat and managed to continue somewhat smoothly. "But the lady obviously has poor taste, and ya see, me and the kid here, well we're tryna talk business…so, could you possibly leave us alone?" He even made a show of putting his hands up in a conciliatory manner. "No offense intended."

The man glanced back to the woman behind him, who was already making shooing motions at him. He turned away from all three of them and shook his head. "Ain't no pleasin' some folk…" He threw his hands up and walked off towards the door. "J-just tryna be friendly…"

Wilhelmina Thorne was wearing a blonde wig, but it was her all right. She crossed her arms, sucking her teeth and mumbling. "Poor taste…asshole…"

Arthur's mouth twitched. He grabbed his beer and drained it, slamming it down on the bar and motioning for another before rounding on her. " _What are you doin' here?_ " he hissed, voice lowered.

"Same as you. Just tryin' to have a goddamn drink." She swiped up a rocks glass from the bar and took a long pull from it, gritting her teeth and cringing afterwards. "Lost track of Everett, _again,_ ain't got no place better to go, _again_ …so I'm drownin' my sorrows 'til I come up with somethin' better." She drained her glass in another swig and set it down on the bar.

"Arthur, you know her?" Lenny peeped over Arthur's shoulder.

Wilhelmina nodded to the bartender for another drink, then turned back to the two men. "Loretta van Buren. Your friend Mr. Morgan introduced me to some of the O'Driscolls the other day." She looked and sounded bone tired, but Arthur was acutely aware that she had not lost the capacity for sarcasm.

Lenny smirked and arched an eyebrow, wondering what the story there was. "My name's Lenny. Sorry about that fella just now. And, well, sorry 'bout those O'Driscolls too."

She huffed through her nose, picking up the fresh drink that was placed in front of her and sliding some coins across the bar. "I'd be more sorry for them, Lenny. Anyways, if you boys will excuse me, I would actually like to get very drunk. Alone." With that, she bowed her head slightly and turned on her heel, leaving the two men at the bar.

Arthur sighed and shook his head, then picked up his beer and gave Lenny a look. Lenny was watching 'Loretta' walk off before he caught Arthur's gaze. He smirked, winked, clinked his beer with Arthur's, and they both tipped back and drank deep.

* * *

 **A FEW HOURS (AND SEVERAL DRINKS) LATER**

That piano player was somethin' else, all right. Arthur whooped and clapped him on the back, telling him he was great. "Lenny! Lenny?" Arthur turned back and forth, looking for his friend. When the hell had that kid snuck off? "Lenny, where are ya?"

Arthur wove around the other folks in the saloon, asking after his young friend with just about every other person he encountered. Weren't it supposed to only be a drink or two? Woops! He snorted to himself as he made his way up the stairs. How long had it been since he'd seen that kid? "Lenny?"

"Arthur!" Lenny yelled from across the balcony.

Goddamnit, of course he'd gone off and found that Thorne woman! Arthur ran a hand across his stubbly face and sullenly made his way over to them, good mood all gone. "What the hell are you doin', kid?"

"You're gonna drop it, Mr. Summers…" Wilhelmina said flatly as she watched Lenny trying to balance his empty glass on his forehead. She had her elbows propped on the railing of the balcony, leaning back against it and looking much more relaxed than she had a few hours ago. She swirled her drink in her hand languidly.

"Thought you wanted to be alone, _Miss van Buren_?" Arthur narrowed his eyes at her, enunciating the fake name with a hint of venom.

"I'm tryin' to cheer her up, Arthur!" Lenny turned towards him and the glass toppled off his head. They both scrambled to catch it, but they heard it crash on the floor below them a split second later. Lenny and Wilhelmina both burst out laughing at that, and Arthur couldn't help shaking his head and letting a somewhat amused sigh escape.

Wilhelmina smirked and sipped from her glass. "Your friend is sweet, Mr. Morgan. You could learn a thing or two from him."

"I ain't got time for sweet, lady. And I don't think I got time for you, neither."

Wilhelmina stuck her lower lip out and pouted.

Lenny turned on him. Obviously he was a tad enamored with Arthur's former bounty. "C'mon Arthur, why you so sour? Ya know she was just tellin' me she's all on her own out here. I mean maybe we could talk to Dutch-"

Arthur cut him off. "I don't think we'll be talkin' to Dutch about no such thing, kid." He glanced either way to make sure no one was paying attention to them and hissed quietly. "Why don't _Miss van Buren_ tell you who she really is and why Charles and I were about to take her in for a bounty the other day?" His eyes slid back to Wilhelmina. "And why she got a man killed in his own goddamn garden just yesterday?"

Lenny blinked, his bleary gaze sliding towards Wilhelmina.

Her eyes had widened slightly at the mention of Thomas Downes. "That man died? Shit…" She wiped a hand across her brow. "Ya know I…I wasn't tryin' to hurt him?"

Arthur scoffed and lifted his beer. "I was. But I weren't gonna kill him either. Your brother, or whoever the hell he is, got that honor."

Her brows furrowed and she gave a resigned nod. Lenny was looking more confused than ever. She sighed, drained her glass and slapped it down on the table next to them, looking up towards Lenny. "My real name is Wilhelmina Thorne. Willa, I guess, if you're inclined. I've been traveling west for some years now, followin' my brother. Well, tryin' to put a bullet in him to be more precise. He…he's done some real bad things to me, our family…and other folks too. That man Downes, he…he didn't deserve to get caught in the middle of it. Goddamn bastard shot him, when he should'a shot me…" She clenched a fist, letting out a sigh and shaking her head before forcing her palm open and resting it on her holster.

"I got my face on some bounty posters by accident, but I guess it would'a happened sooner or later anyway. That's why I'm wearin' this stupid wig…thankfully folks here ain't too bright. They're all standin' around with their thumbs up their asses, askin' after a lady with black hair. Anyway, I shoulda left after what happened yesterday. Everett won't be stickin' around here now that he knows I'm close to him again."

Lenny put a friendly hand on her shoulder. "Hey, let's get us some more drinks. Whatever your brother's done, he ain't here now. And I mean, we ain't exactly unfamiliar with seein' our faces on wanted posters either, right Arthur? Us outlaws should probably stick together."

Arthur grunted in reply, draining the last of his beer.

"Seems like we're all safe enough for right now. Stick with us for the night, Willa. If anything happens, we'll help you out."

Willa blinked at Lenny, then turned her gaze a bit more questioningly to Arthur. "Y-yeah?" It had been just her and Tulip for so long now, she'd just about forgotten what it was to have a friendly night with friendly people. As so much of her struggled against it, there was this attention-starved part of her mind that cried out for company, for any sort of normal social interaction that wasn't interrogations and stand-offs.

Arthur shook his head then walked off, making for the stairs to go back to the bar. "Fine kid, but you make sure she behaves herself!"

Lenny shot her a grin and linked his arm with hers, leading her towards the stairs after Arthur.

* * *

 **A FEW MORE HOURS (AND SEVERAL MORE DRINKS) LATER**

"That's the thing, ya see, that-" Arthur turned to look at Lenny and Willa, but there was no one standing beside him on the balcony. "Lenny?"

He suddenly heard a ruckus and smashing glass from the bar down below. When he leaned over the railing, he saw Lenny being chased by two men down there. "Lenny!"

He made his way to the stairs. "Lenny!"

The kid was up on the bar now, trying to wave the men off with a broken bottle clutched in his hand.

"Leave the kid alone, ya goddamn animals!"

"That's my friend, you lily-livered sheep fuckers!" Arthur swiveled his head drunkenly to look back up at the balcony. Somehow Wilhelmina had appeared at the railing, and he watched, cowed, as she clambered up onto it and plummeted down on top of one of the men.

"Jesus!"

Everyone stopped what they were doing, looking at each other and then down at her. She had knocked the man out cold.

Willa stumbled to her feet, running her hands down the front of her shirt, dusting herself off like she hadn't just leapt 15 feet. "Take that! Nobody-" She hiccupped. "Nobody messes with my friend!" She grabbed a glass off the bar and chugged it.

There might have been some dancing after that, and had Wilhelmina and Lenny started arm wrestling? Arthur was outside taking a piss, trying to work out what the hell had just happened. Lenny had muttered something about maybe being in love, then tried to make amends with those two fellas he'd been fighting with. Arthur's head was swimmy, but God it felt good to take a piss. He groaned and arched his back, looking out at the stars that hung above Valentine.

Just as he was zipping up and getting ready to turn and head back into the saloon, he heard a shot ring out in the cool night. He went to reach for his revolver when a blast of cold water suddenly rained down on him. A bucket fell to the ground from the balcony above his head and he heard someone start cackling from off behind a fence.

"What in the hell?!" He stormed over and reached behind the fence, yanking Willa up by the collar of her coat. "I'm wetter'n a goddamn alligator you…you crazy…"

She was practically crying from laughing so hard, having a tough time trying to calm herself down. She tried to do a little trick by spinning her pistol and just dropped it on the ground, making herself laugh even harder. "Ah shit… that's what you get!" She hiccuped again. "That's what you get for hogtyin' me, mister…big bad bounty hunter!" She swiped the pistol up out of the dirt and jammed it back into the holster on her hip, still cackling.

He grumbled and yanked her up over the fence with what seemed like minimal effort. She squealed and tried to slither out of his grasp, but if there was one thing Arthur Morgan was good at, it was manhandling folks. Once she was back on her feet he pushed her towards the saloon door, shaking his head behind her. "Shoulda left you for the O'Driscolls…"

At some point in the early hours of the morning, the drunk who had been trying to feel up Willa at the beginning of the night made his return. He swiped a mug of beer out of Arthur's hand at the bar, which in turn led to Arthur dragging him outside and trying to drown him in a water trough.

Eventually the man managed to gather enough of himself to punch Arthur in the gut to get him to let go. As soon as he was free he heard a yell from behind Arthur and Willa was running at him. She made to tackle the man, who dodged out of the way just in time and left her crashing face first into the mud. Once Arthur finally had his breath back he took immense delight in that.

The man must have run off to get the law, because the next thing Willa knew, the three of them were out on the main street and poor Lenny was puking his guts up when the sheriff and a deputy and a few other men showed up. They immediately began to give chase and two of them tackled Lenny before he was even done purging all that whiskey and beer.

Arthur did a double take before he took off running down an alley. Willa could hear him screaming something like "you'll never take me alive!" She wanted to try and help Lenny, but she couldn't risk getting caught by the sheriff's men, so she launched her lit cigarette right at the forehead of one man who was running at her. His faltering for a moment left her enough time to vault right past him to where her horse was tethered in front of the gunsmith. Thankfully the other two were still busy with Lenny and most of the others had taken off after Arthur.

She swung herself up into the saddle none too gracefully and yanked the reins to get Tulip to turn and trot past the sheriff's office. She saw Arthur jumping the fence off to her left and veered towards him, grabbing his hand to help pull him up behind her. "Hold on! Gee up, my girl!" Willa veered Tulip around once more and urged her into a gallop heading south and out of town.

After a few miles, Willa finally pulled up on Tulip's reigns, slowing her into a trot and checking behind them to make sure they weren't being followed. She steered Tulip off through some trees and into a somewhat secluded clearing before she allowed herself to slump forward in the saddle, groaning. She clasped her arms around the mare's neck, not sure if she was going to retch or just topple right off into the grass. All that booze and the excitement of running from the law had finally caught up with her.

She was startled out of her groggy half-doze when she heard Arthur groaning behind her. "We stopped…? Jesus, everything's spinnin'. Where's Lenny? LENNAAYY?"

"Shut the hell up! Jesus…" Willa slowly and carefully slid down off her saddle, keeping one hand on Tulip's neck to keep herself steady. "The sheriff and his goons got him… is he gonna be okay?"

"Oh. Hell, he'll be alright." Arthur took a deep breath before slithering down off the back of her horse. Somehow he'd rode belly down the whole way from Valentine, and Willa could believe his guts were in a more woeful state than even hers. "They'll have him sleep it off in a cell and let him go with a fine in the mornin'…"

"Sounds like somethin' you're used to." She sat down heavily in the grass, feet splayed. She smacked her lips at the sour taste in her mouth. A little bit of bile and a whole lot of mud; shit, she was caked with the stuff. That stupid asshole had had the tenacity to try and proposition her. She wasn't putting up with that shit anymore. Hadn't for a long time. She wished that tackle had actually connected. She smiled a small mean smile to herself at the memory of Mr. Morgan holding his sorry head under the water.

"Guess you could say that. Used to be pretty wild in my younger days…" Arthur mumbled, crossing his arms over his chest as a shiver overtook him. He was still soggy from Willa shooting that water bucket off the balcony, and the early hours of the morning were crisp here in the heartlands. And of course his coat was back with his horse in Valentine.

"Shit…I'm an ass, huh?" Willa stood up on wobbly legs and grabbed her tent, bedroll and a blanket off Tulip's back. "I can get a fire goin'. Here, take these." She tossed the supplies to him before wandering off to gather some branches from around the tree line.

Arthur snorted in return, but he scooped up the bundle of canvas she'd tossed to him and went about getting her tent put up. He laid the bedroll out across the entrance of the tent and scooped up the blanket to wrap around his shoulders before sitting back down.

In about 20 minutes Wilhelmina had a nice blaze kindled right in front of the tent, with some extra set aside to feed into the fire when it started to sputter. "You should take some of your clothes off, lay 'em out by the fire so they dry out." She kneeled in front of the bedroll, blowing some big breaths of air at the base of the fire to help it along a bit.

"Well, that sounds mighty indecent ma'am. Think I'll keep my clothes on, if it's all the same."

Willa rolled her eyes, huffing out a sigh and glancing back at him. "Fine. Do whatever you want. Don't go cryin' to Charles and Lenny and whoever else you run with when you get pneumonia."

Arthur's gaze slid towards her. "Why're _you_ runnin' around out here alone, chasin' after your brother? Why not leave whatever it is in the past? Start a family or somethin'?"

She had been digging in her satchel for something to eat when the questions rolled out of him. She paused for a moment, then half-heartedly sat back and laid out some jerky and a tin of biscuits on the bedroll between them. "I um…" She cleared her throat. "I can't just leave it. That ain't how it's gonna happen…"

Willa bowed her head and gently removed her cavalry hat, cradling it in her lap. She pulled the blonde wig off her head and tossed it off to the side, her dark mop of hair tumbling down her shoulders and covering some of her face. "Everett took everything from me; our entire family, all of it that was left anyway. My daddy and my sister are dead, and that blood and more is on his hands."

Her own hands clawed at the hat, gripping the fabric tightly. "And I can't sit by and let him get away with it. I can't ever forgive what he's done. And a family?" She scoffed quietly. "He destroyed any part of me that could ever hope for somethin' like that…"

She abruptly looked over at him, eyes wet in the glow of the fire. "Don't tell me you ain't never had somethin' happen that you couldn't forget…that you couldn't forgive. That doesn't follow you around, _hauntin'_ you like a goddamn ghost. I see your eyes, Mr. Morgan. You got ghosts, same as I do."

Arthur cleared his throat and bowed his own head, his hat hiding any expression he might have been making. He replied slowly, carefully. "I am sorry. And…you're right. I carry my own demons, sure enough. But a wise man told me revenge is a fool's game…"

Willa inhaled sharply, nodding her head. "Well, when revenge and a good horse is all you got left…some fool's 'wisdom' don't seem to matter quite so much. I don't know what you've seen or what you've done, but I know we all got sins we carry. And we all got debts that need payin'. I made myself a promise a long time ago I'd see Everett pay his."

A silence descended over them after that. Arthur never truly enjoyed drinking because he almost always took it to excess and it made him vulnerable. Made him think too much and feel too much. He usually ended up in fights, brandishing that cold hard machismo he'd cultivated like a suit of armor to cover up what he felt were his shortcomings. Never being as smart as Hosea; never being as charismatic and charming as Dutch. Never being good enough for Mary and losing her; never being a good enough father to Isaac and losing him and his mother at such tender ages. That one hurt the most whenever the memories flooded back, because unlike Mary, _they_ were gone forever. They were ghosts that would always haunt him, no matter how much he tried to push them down.

Willa's quiet voice broke him out of his reverie. "This was my daddy's hat, from the war." She was staring down hard at it. "This, my guns, an old banjo. That's all I got to remember him by. And Loretta, that name I been usin'…that was my twin sister's name." She sniffed, hastily wiping at her face with her sleeve. "Lettie, she was such a goddamn _good kid_ …"

Arthur winced and sighed, the crow's feet crinkling at the corners of his eyes. He reached down and plucked up some of the jerky, holding it out to her. "C'mon girl. You should eat somethin'." He reached around into his satchel after she took the dried meat and produced a canteen full of water, nesting it on the bedroll in front of her.

"Ya know, I got my father's hat too. Can't say I loved mine quite as much as you did, but uh…well I guess there's some kinda reason I hold onto it. I'm a pretty bad man, but I guess maybe it reminds me not to be quite so bad as he was…"

Willa chewed slowly and sniffled a few more times. "You don't seem that bad, Mr. Morgan. Even if you did hogtie me and almost get me blown fulla holes by those O'Driscolls. You still been more considerate with me than most men I've met…"

Arthur's mouth curved into a small smirk as he plucked one of the biscuits out of the tin that sat between them. "Well now…you only know me as a part-time bounty hunter and a debt collector and a drunk, Miss Thorne. I've been generally disagreeable for just about my whole life. Can't say I see that changin' any time soon."

Willa took a long grateful swig from the canteen to wash down the last of the jerky. "Guess we're just a couple of stubborn fools, then. Can't say I see my course changin' much either."

Arthur nodded, munching another biscuit. It felt good to get some food in his stomach, but he was exhausted. He cleared his throat, suddenly thinking about their sleeping situation.

Willa stretched her arms and yawned, bringing one hand down to rub away any remaining traces of moisture from her eyes. Damn whiskey, it always made her emotional. "I guess I can't tell you to get lost what with no horse and all… you can take the bedroll and set it by the fire I guess, and I'll just curl up in the tent."

"You sure? I mean…well I don't mean I'd…" Arthur sighed and scratched the back of his neck awkwardly. "It's pretty cold out here. Now I certainly don't make a habit of sharin' bedrolls with strange women, but it's just a fact body warmth'll keep both of us comfortable when that fire dies out."

Wilhelmina looked at him with shrewd eyes. He could see her jaw muscles working in the gentle glow from the fire. "I sleep with my gun and my knife, Mr. Morgan. Just know that."

He gave one firm nod before standing, ushering her to do the same so he could grab the bedroll and drag it all the way into the tent. He spread it back out flat on the ground and then sat back down on it, removing his hat and dropping it beside him. Willa removed her pistol and hunting knife from her hip, laying them both on the ground beside where her head was about to be. She dropped her own hat beside her weapons, sank to the ground and lay back, stiff as a board, crossing her arms across her chest.

Arthur cleared his throat again. He was thankful it was so dark out here so she wouldn't be able to see the blush that had crept up into his cheeks. Not that he hadn't lain with a woman a time or two before, but it had been longer than he would openly ever admit. He pulled the blanket from around his shoulders and spread it out over them as best he could as he lay down on his side next to her. Thankfully being by the fire for a while meant that his clothes were mostly dry.

"If you're…if it's uncomfortable, just say somethin', okay?"

Willa blinked, rolling her head to the side to look at him. She was startled at how gentle this man, this stranger, was being with her. In any other circumstance she would have told a man ending up alone with her at the end of a drunken night to take a hike or risk getting shot full of lead. This man seemed different somehow. He had made no physical advances on her whatsoever – had not even deigned to _demand_ that they sleep next to each other for the body warmth. Her experience with a majority of men was that they demanded most things from women, because it was their God-given right as the better of the species. He had simply, stutteringly, offered it as a logical alternative to being cold and miserable.

"Okay."

Arthur gave her a small nod and then scooted a bit closer, curling his arm underneath his head for some kind of support. "Thank you, by the way…for grabbin' me when the sheriff showed up. Didn't have to…"

Willa shrugged her shoulders nonchalantly. "Normally I wouldn't. But...it's been a long time since I met any folks who seemed like they weren't just out to get me. Everybody's always robbin' from somebody, ya know?"

Arthur let out a low chuckle. "Well, I kinda was, that first day we found you…"

She sneered. "But you didn't. Didn't even take more'n what I offered, even though I know _you_ know you could've. And after what Lenny said earlier, about helpin' me keep safe if anybody noticed me…even if you wasn't so keen on it at first, it…it still meant somethin'. It's kinda nice to feel like maybe I can still make some friends..."

Arthur hummed, closing his eyes. _He_ felt kind of nice having a body to lay next to, he had to admit it. Even if it was just for a night, it was something he desperately missed on occasion. The sheer loneliness of his life crept up on him from time to time, in his idle moments when he wasn't working himself to the bone to stop from overthinking. And when overthinking was all it seemed like he was capable of, that's when he'd start sketching or jot those thoughts down in his journal. It helped some, clarifying a bit of the chaos that his lifestyle inevitably produced.

He noticed that Wilhelmina's breathing had slowed and evened out, and he knew that she had fallen asleep. Arthur tugged the blanket further up over both their shoulders and nuzzled his head into the crook of his elbow, closing his own eyes and willing himself to try and drift off.

* * *

The next morning found them both still asleep long after the sun had risen and started its arc across the heavens. Willa was startled awake by a few particularly loud, sawing snores emanating from right above her ears. She blinked and quickly unattached herself from Arthur's side; apparently at some point in the night she had rolled over and clamped herself onto him in her sleep.

She sat up, leaning on one arm. She couldn't help but study Arthur Morgan for a few moments while he still slept. Undoubtedly he was handsome. Surprisingly soft-looking brown hair coming untucked from behind his ears; that strong jaw covered with just a week or two worth of beard; the scar that traced an angle across his chin, and another that made a small slice across the bridge of his slightly crooked nose. It made even less sense to her that a man so indisputably good looking would still be so oddly polite.

Sure, he'd talked a lot of guff and she knew he'd been displeased to see her in the saloon the night before, but once they'd escaped Valentine and ended up out here alone, everything about him had been almost…tentative? Demure? She wasn't even sure she knew how to describe it.

"I sure hope you ain't contemplatin' the odds of robbin' or killin' me, Miss Thorne…'cause they ain't good."

Willa gasped in shock, feeling her face flush. She had no idea how long she'd been staring blankly down at Arthur, lost in her own thoughts. She looked away quickly, standing and yanking the blanket off him, suddenly deciding to go about breaking down their little camp. "Course not…just thinkin' about what a sorry state I'm in, havin' to waste time haulin' your hungover carcass back to Valentine to get your horse."

Arthur chuckled, sitting up and resting his arms on his knees. "Now ma'am, I don't recall askin' you to do no such thing...but I guess it would be appreciated." He leisurely looked around, allowing himself just a moment to wish for a big, hot cup of coffee. Sighing when one did not magically appear out of the air in front of him, he made his way up onto one knee instead, getting the bedroll they'd shared ready to be packed away.

Once the camp was broken down, Willa packed all of the bundled things back into Tulip's saddlebags while Arthur made sure the last dying embers of the fire were kicked out. She tightened the straps that held the bedroll one last time before reaching into her saddlebag to pull out a few carrots and some oatcakes for Tulip to munch on for breakfast.

Arthur wandered over as she was letting Tulip lip the food from her hands. He noticed Willa's affectionate way with the horse, watching her lips curl into a small smile as she took one free hand and ran it along the mare's velvety muzzle lovingly, whispering some sweet nothing he could barely hear.

"She is beautiful. I always liked the silver dapples…" Arthur ran his hand down Tulip's thigh appreciatively. The mare snorted, flicking her head back and sidestepping away from him.

Willa let out a low laugh, following the horse so she could give her the last of her breakfast. "She's a bit like me, Mr. Morgan. She ain't used to much company. All we've had is each other for some time now."

Arthur let one hand drop to rest on the holster at his hip while the other reached up to scratch the beard under his chin. "Sounds awful lonely."

Willa's gaze finally lifted to meet his as Tulip nibbled the last oatcake out of her hand. She sighed and brushed her hands against each other, shrugging. "Guess it is, sometimes… we never saw too many folks growin' up we weren't told to shoot first, so it ain't exactly too out of the ordinary. Now c'mon, get up there so we can head out." She waved a hand at him to mount up while she brushed the horse's neck with the other, keeping her calm.

Arthur bowed his head obediently and pulled himself up onto the horse, scooting backwards so she had room to mount up in front of him. Willa grabbed onto the saddle horn and swung herself up into the stirrups, cooing at Tulip and making sure to commend her on her good temper before guiding her into a trot out towards the road.

"So," Willa glanced over her shoulder, "if you ain't a full-time bounty hunter, or a full-time debt collector, _or_ a full-time drunk…what are you?"

"Oh, I ain't much of anything, miss. Probably best not to ask."

"Ya know that makes me even more curious, right?"

Arthur just shook his head, looking off at the countryside as they rode. "Sometimes I think I'm just a misguided fool. Well I _know_ I'm a fool, but…I don't know. I got a big, sort of unconventional family to help look after. Hopin' to get back west soon…back to freer country, less of this-" he waved a hand half-heartedly, though she couldn't see it "-civilization."

Wilhelmina hummed in acknowledgement. "Guess I know what you mean. I grew up in Appalachia, in the mountains. Northern Pennsylvania. Strange, bein' that close to a city like New York, but those two places is like night and day. Folks in the mountains are tough, they have to be, but it's…a cleaner way of livin', I guess? More honest. If that makes any sense."

"Sounds about like what my people are tryin' to get to."

As they approached the outskirts of Valentine, Wilhelmina suddenly reached a hand up by her shoulder, making 'gimme' motions with her fingers. "Hey, rummage that wig out of the saddle bag, would ya?"

Arthur chuckled and turned, digging for a moment before pulling out the disheveled hairpiece and placing it in her hand. Willa popped her hat on the saddle horn and shook the hairpiece out a bit before bunching her dark locks up against her head with one hand and pulling the wig on over it with the other. She replaced the hat, straightening some of the blonde mane around her face, and guided Tulip into town.

Once they were back on the main drag, Willa pulled up the horse's reigns as they came up on the gunsmith. The sheriff's office was right across the way, so she pulled the brim of her hat down a little further for good measure. "Go on, go and get your young protégé outta jail."

Arthur smirked as he slid down off the horse. He turned back toward her and tipped his hat briefly. "I will do that. And you…stay outta trouble, huh? Keep away from Valentine for a while. Woman on her own…" His eyes seemed to look far away for a brief moment. "It ain't very safe. Be careful."

She blinked, slightly taken aback again at the man's odd nature. She had managed to take care of herself – although admittedly, just barely on many occasions – for the last almost ten years. But she couldn't help a small nod. "I'll try, Mr. Morgan…"

Arthur nodded, tipping his hat farewell before turning to walk away.

"Oh, Mr. Morgan?"

Arthur stopped mid stride, turning to look back at her. "Hm?"

"Tell Lenny I said hello!" She flashed him a crooked grin – God, she couldn't remember the last time she'd truly smiled at somebody – and clicked her tongue a few times, urging Tulip around and back up the road.


	4. Heartlands - A Knight in Shining Spurs

**THREE WEEKS LATER**

Wilhelmina had grown very good at keeping her ear to the ground on her long trek across the country, lazing about much like Sherlock Holmes in saloons and various seedy establishments to listen in for any information on the whereabouts of her brother. She had picked up certain names of Everett's gang members and other contacts, collecting bounty posters across seven different states that matched the descriptions of the men she had heard about.

Finding these men and torturing them for information had kept her on Everett's heels for a number of years, but she had never been good enough to truly corner him. The problem was that the two of them had been co-evolving; as she had honed her tracking skills, Everett had learned to be more cautious with who he kept in his inner circle. He weeded out men who he thought weren't loyal enough before she could get to them, and was beginning to get involved with bigger and more well protected business partners.

She could count on at least one hand the number of times she'd had him in her sights, but he'd just had too much protection, or been in places that were too public for her to make any kind of decisive action. The closest she had ever been was back at that ranch near Valentine, but she still just couldn't bring herself to go through innocent people to get to him, and he knew that was one of her weaknesses.

She didn't much care about dying herself, but she wanted to make good and sure that Everett got what was coming to him before that happened.

She knew full well he had been transporting opium and morphine since she was a teenager. It seemed to be easy money for him, and that money was the main reason he constantly had a gang of loyal men to protect him. She had heard other rumors more recently of his involvement in the underground slave trade that originated near the southern border as well.

Today, Wilhelmina had found herself a lucky break. She had been camped out near Emerald Station for the last week or so, keeping a watchful eye on the folks moving in and out of the train station and the small postal office there. And today, a partly cloudy, breezy day near the end of June, a man had caught her eye playing poker at one of the tables out on the platform.

She puffed on a cigarette, a set of binoculars trained on the poker table, adjusting the focus in the lenses so she could see the players' faces clearly. She stuffed the binoculars underneath one of her arms to turn and dig in Tulip's saddlebags, pulling out the roll of bounty posters she'd collected and unfurling it. Willa took a quick drag and ashed the cigarette before sticking it back between her lips so she could use both hands to flip through the posters until she found the one that she was thinking of.

Yes, that was him all right. Osmond Bennett. Wanted in two different states for robbery, murder and suspected involvement in human trafficking. Also rumored to be associated with the increasingly conspicuous Thorne gang.

Wilhelmina's mouth curled into a mean grin as she hurriedly rolled the posters back up, stuffed them and the binoculars back in the saddlebags and removed the blonde wig. She took one last drag from the cigarette before dropping it and twisting the toe of her boot into the ground to crush it out. She mounted up onto Tulip after she got the wig settled where she wanted it, riding her a bit closer to the station but making sure to dismount well away from the road.

Wilhelmina sidled up to the train station in the early afternoon, looking around like she was lost and doe-eyed. She made a point of walking around the poker table, accidentally bumping Osmond Bennett's shoulder as she went by.

"'Scuse me!"

She abruptly turned, pressing her fingertips to her lips demurely. "My goodness, I am so sorry, sir! Clumsy old me! I hope I didn't disturb your game…"

The man grumbled, giving her a brief up-and-down glance before his eyes returned to his cards. "Just…watch where you're goin', woman." The other men at the table mumbled and some let out a few low chuckles.

Willa bowed her head obediently. "Sorry to ask, but…this is the Emerald Train Station right? I'm supposed to catch a train there…"

She saw a few of the men at the table roll their eyes, but at least one of them was decent enough to acknowledge her with a sarcastic 'yes, of course, read the damn signs.' She thanked them, rolling her own eyes as she turned around and walked over to the ticket booth. She lowered her voice and made some banal small talk with the clerk for a few minutes.

Afterwards she turned and slumped her shoulders a bit, making a show of sighing and meandering over to a bench to sit down. She tapped her feet, looking around in different directions, pulled out a pamphlet of the train schedule she'd taken from the ticket booth, looked at it for a minute, folded it back up, put it away. She stood, walking a few steps one way, then a few steps the other way. She crossed her arms. Glanced at the poker table. Glanced the other way. Glanced back to the poker table.

Finally she wandered closer to the game. "I'm…I'm sorry gentlemen, I don't mean to be a bother but, well, I was supposed to be travelin' to California to see about an inheritance and wouldn't you know my damn train's been delayed! Is there any way I could entice one of you boys to share a drink with me? It's been a long mornin' and I ain't got anyplace else to go for the time being…"

Every one of the men at the table slid their eyes up towards her. Two of them plucked huge cigars out of their mouths and ashed them off to the side of the table. Osmond Bennett spoke up first, eager to be able to take advantage of a clueless and potentially rich woman. "I'll share a bottle with you miss, if you ante in and play some rounds? Huh boys?"

The other men grumbled a bit, but one of them slid his chair over to make room for one more. Osmond stood up and went to grab another chair from the edge of the platform.

"Well how could I say no? I trust you fine men will take it easy on a lady like me though, right?" She batted her eyelashes at them.

"Sure, honey. We'll take it easy on you," said one of the men with a cigar. He flashed Bennett a sleazy grin.

Wilhelmina took the chair that Bennett had dragged over and placed next to his own. She extended her hand towards a bottle of whiskey that sat on the table, but paused to look over at him as he sat back down. "May I?"

The man nodded, sliding an empty glass towards her. "Fill mine while you're at it, huh sweetheart?"

"Of course, sir. You know, with all the fine, hard-working men in these parts I may just decide to stay right here!" She flashed them a pretty smile as she filled Bennett's glass before pouring some for herself.

They played several hands of poker, most of the men beginning to get quite drunk as the evening came on. Osmond Bennett was maybe the drunkest of the lot; Wilhelmina had been sure to keep refilling his glass every time it got low, flirting with him and playing at being drunker than she was.

Once the game was done (she had managed to scrape by and win one round, pinning it on beginner's luck) and the men were beginning to disperse, she turned suddenly and put a hand on Bennett's arm. "Oh sir! I'm such a silly, drunk woman but that train is nowhere to be seen and…well," she bit her lip, "I sure would feel much better having a strong man to accompany me through a night in a strange place…"

He smirked at her, blowing whiskey breath in her face. "Well sweet thing, when you put it like that, I just don't know how any fella could say no…" He made sure to grab a full bottle that sat on the floor by the table, then threw an arm around her shoulders roughly, leading her towards the corner of the building where a Chestnut Tennessee Walker was tethered. He swung himself up into the saddle, reaching down to take her arm and pull her up in front of him.

She cringed to herself as she slid up into the saddle in front of Bennett. She could immediately feel his eagerness behind her and she tried to suppress a shiver of repulsion. He reached both hands around her waist, nestled the whiskey between her legs and took the horse's reigns, guiding them away from the train station. She glanced back at him. "You got somewhere in mind we can go, sir?"

"Got a camp just a short trek across the plain. Don't worry sweetheart, I'll have you well taken care of shortly…"

She turned slightly in the saddle, leaning back against him. "Oh, you're a naughty man…" She clutched the neck of the bottle with her fist and smashed him in the face with it as hard as she could. Bennett let out a surprised groan and slumped against her, unconscious and beginning to bleed from his nose and a split in his upper lip.

Disgusted, Willa slid out from underneath him and down off the horse. She grabbed the reigns and quickly led the Tennessee Walker back toward the tree line where she'd left Tulip, mounting up and leading Bennett's horse on behind her.

After an agonizingly slow twenty-minute ride north, she reached the abandoned cabin where she'd been making camp. Her tent was set up outside, around the back of the building so no one passing close by would notice. She tethered Tulip up around the back and pulled Bennett off his horse by one arm, letting his dead weight thump satisfyingly against the ground before dragging him towards the door of the cabin.

The place was creepy as all hell and stank to high heaven; she wasn't sure what had actually happened in there, but it looked like some kind of strange religious mass suicide. Many old and moldering beds lined up along the walls contained skeletal corpses that were all wearing the same shoes for some crazy reason.

She dropped him on the floor and moved forward a few feet to where another skeleton sat at a table decorated to look like some sort of an altar. She knocked the papery carcass out of the chair it had been seated in for who knew how long and dragged it over beside Bennet. Grabbing him under his armpits, she struggled to lift his body into the chair. She pulled a length of rope of out her satchel, tying his ankles to the legs of the chair and his wrists behind his back. She made sure to take all the money out of his pockets too, since she'd lost most of what she'd bet in the poker game.

Willa paced back and forth a few times, glancing back at him to make sure things looked secure. She lit a lantern and set it on a bedside table, going around to make sure the moth-eaten curtains were drawn over the windows. Once she was satisfied, she returned to her captive and drew her hunting knife from her belt, grabbing him by the hair on his head and tilting his face up.

A groan escaped Osmond Bennett's bloody mouth but he didn't wake up fully. Willa snarled and snorted mucus back into her throat, spitting it out in his face. "Wake up asshole!" She stuck the point of the knife against his neck as his eyes fluttered open.

"What the…fuck…?"

"Where's Everett?"

"What the fuck are you talkin' about, woman?" He tried to stand up and very quickly realized he couldn't. "What is this?"

Willa pushed the point of the knife in harder, breaking the skin just enough to get her point across…literally. "I know you're part of Everett Thorne's gang, Bennett. I just want to know where he is, that's all. Make this easy, huh?" She still had a death grip on his hair, keeping his face angled up towards her.

He groaned, baring his teeth at her. "Hah, so you're that whore sister he told us about…"

She yanked the knife away from his neck, twirling it in her palm so that the blade faced down and drove it straight into the top of his thigh. He let out a breathless wheeze that quickly gave way to a mixture of agonized grunts and curses.

"I'm gonna kill you either way, Bennett. You might as well talk. Do one good deed before you die and tell me where that sorry sack of shit ran off to!"

"Fuck you!" He spat blood at her, leering as it bubbled through his teeth and over his chin.

Willa yanked his head backwards sharply before letting go, stalking over to where she'd set the bottle of whiskey. She wiped his blood off her face with her sleeve, picked up the bottle, yanked the top off and took a long swig of it, hissing afterwards. She looked back at him with a grimace, watching him pant and giving him a few minutes to really _feel_ that knife in his leg.

She walked back to him slowly, tapping her fingernails against the glass bottle. "You don't start talkin', I'm gonna start cuttin' your toes off…"

Bennett's bottom lip quivered slightly at that. A fine mist of blood left his lips with every harsh exhale. He snorted some of it up and spit it on the floor. "Fuck you, bitch…"

* * *

Arthur crouched low in the grass, keeping his eye on the whitetail doe about thirty yards away, craning her neck down to drink from the Heartland Overflow. Not a lake by any means, but a large body of standing water that wildlife like ducks, deer and geese frequented. He had packed up and left camp for a few days after that whole nasty business with Leviticus Cornwall back in Valentine.

He had known invoking that man's wrath was not a wise decision on their part, but for some reason it _kept happening_. They kept stealing from him, and they should have known - _especially_ after he'd run into those Pinkerton agents while he was out fishing with Jack – that a man as powerful and wealthy as Cornwall would not just lie down and cut his losses.

He nocked an arrow, bringing his bow up to aim at the doe.

Arthur had begged out right after he and Charles had cleared out Clemens Point and gotten that poor German fella back to his family. As soon as Dutch and the others had rolled in on the caravans, he'd told them he was off to do some hunting, claiming they would be in need of food after yet another desperate run from their pursuers. This was all true enough, but the real reason was that he just needed some time to himself, time to clear his head. He could not shake the uneasiness that had been growing inside him since they'd fled Blackwater with barely the clothes on their backs.

He took a deep breath, drawing the bowstring back.

He couldn't help overhearing Hosea telling other folks in camp that they should be making plans. Abigail and John especially, what with their responsibility to young Jack; Lenny, Mary-Beth and Tilly were also young enough that they could easily slip away with little to no consequence. But it worried Arthur immensely to know how Hosea's faith in their plans was eroding. He felt himself being torn between his two father figures, and he had no idea what to do about it.

A gunshot rang out from somewhere off to his left and he jumped and cursed to himself, spooked by the shot almost as much as the deer was. He watched it for a moment with furrowed brows as it bolted off, then turned to look in the direction he'd heard the shot come from. Seemed like somewhere very close by, just north across the train tracks. He quickly made his way back to his horse, stowing the bow and retrieving his rifle. He slung it over his shoulder and mounted up, guiding the horse north as quietly as possible.

Arthur kept his eyes peeled, scanning the horizon for any sign of movement or a fight. The sun was setting off to the west, but thankfully daylight hadn't fully fled just yet.

He was worried it might be O'Driscoll's, being this close to Valentine, and he wouldn't let himself get caught unawares. As he crossed the tracks another shot disturbed the evening silence, making a flock of birds take wing off to his left, and his eyes were drawn to a cabin that sat tucked back from the road, almost hidden.

He cautiously made his way over, dismounting behind a stand of trees and pulling the rifle off his shoulder. He tried to keep most of his body tucked behind one of the broader trees in the small copse, peering around towards the cabin and listening.

Suddenly the front door of the old building burst open and two bodies tumbled out and down the small set of stairs. They appeared to be clamped onto each other, locked in a vicious fight. Arthur could now hear various grunts and growls as he watched the scene unfold, the person on the bottom trying desperately to push the barrel of a gun out of their face.

Wilhelmina pushed up as hard as she could on the barrel, teeth bared with the strain of it. She could feel the blood soaking into her sleeve and beginning to drip from her arm where – she was hoping – she'd only been grazed by Bennett's first shot. She didn't know how he'd untied the ropes, but it had been one hell of a surprise when he'd simply reached forward and yanked her pistol out of its holster when she was close enough to him. She jammed one of her thighs up into his own, causing her hunting knife to wedge further up into his flesh.

Bennett let out a gasping cry and instinctively tried to recoil backwards and away from her. She took the opportunity to launch forward after him, pushing the pistol away with one hand and punching him right in the eyeball with her other. She quickly straddled him, trying to wrestle the gun out of his hand.

"Tell me where he is!" she hissed down at him.

Bennett had to force himself to remove his free hand from his mangled eye, jamming his fingers around her throat and squeezing as hard as he could. She let out a choking cough, blindly reaching down with her right hand while keeping a death grip with her left on his hand holding the gun.

She managed to find the handle of the hunting knife, gripping it tightly and yanking it out of his leg. He cried out in agony as the serrated edge tore through his flesh, but the sound was quickly cut off when she buried the blade into the hollow at the base of his neck as hard as she could.

He went limp, a few last shaky, rasping breaths escaping his lungs before he slumped back against the stairs of the cabin. Wilhelmina dropped down onto her back in the dirt, breathing heavily and reaching a hand up to gently rub her neck where his fingers had dug in. "S-shit…

The struggle had only lasted a little longer than a minute, and Arthur carefully came out from around the tree once he was sure one of them was dead. He centered his rifle at the person still breathing, making his way over. "What in the hell's goin' on here?"

Wilhelmina recognized that voice immediately. She rolled her eyes up at the man with the rifle pointed at her, still panting. Her hand had left her throat to grip her upper arm, which was really starting to burn quite badly. "If it ain't Mr. Arthur Morgan, m-my knight in shinin' spurs…what the _hell_ are you doin' here conveniently a few seconds late?"

Arthur blinked, letting the rifle drop to his side. "Miss Thorne!?"

Willa grunted, forcing herself to sit up.

"Jesus, what the hell…?" Arthur quickly slung the rifle back over his shoulder, leaning down to take her hand and help her to her feet. She tried to stifle a moan and didn't manage very well. Arthur's eyes narrowed at her. "Where you hurt?"

Willa grit her teeth, staggering away from him toward Bennett's body. "He shot me in the arm, it's fine, it's nothin'…" She reached down and grabbed her pistol from him, shakily slipping it back into its holster. When she tried to pull the hunting knife from his chest, she couldn't. "Goddamnit…"

Arthur strode over, gently easing her out of his way with one arm. He planted one boot on the man's chest, leaning over and yanking the knife out easily. He wiped both sides of the blade on his pant leg before holding the knife out to her hilt first.

She let out a heavy breath, taking it from him and shakily sliding it back into its sheath. "Thank you…"

He reached out and took her by her elbow, trying to lead her into the cabin. "C'mon, let's get a look at you…"

"It's pretty weird in there." She tried to pull away from him. "Anyway, I gotta get this body moved…"

Arthur's fingers curled a little tighter, not letting her go. " _I'll_ take care of the damn body in a little bit, but you're probably in shock and ya might have a bullet lodged in your arm and _that_ needs more immediate attention."

She huffed and put up a bit of a stink but allowed herself to be led back into the cabin all the same. Arthur cringed at the strange ritual scene that was laid out in the dim light of the lantern, shaking his head in bewilderment. "You didn't do all this, did ya?"

She scoffed, grabbing the bottle of whiskey off the end of one of the beds and sinking down onto the chair where she'd had Bennett tied up before. "If I did, you think I'dve had that much trouble killin' that asshole out there?"

Arthur walked over and grabbed the lantern, making his way around the room and rummaging in drawers and end tables for any cloth or tools that could be useful. Most of it was old and moth-and-mouse-eaten, but he did find a few small cloth towels that weren't in too bad of shape. "You said you got a camp out back? Let's get you out there. I don't like the stink of this place…"

Willa was in the middle of tipping back the bottle when he spoke. She lowered it, cringing at the burning in her throat. "Christ, I _just_ sat down…"

Arthur rolled his eyes at her, grabbing her elbow again and motioning her to stand and head for the door. "I'm gonna drag that body inside then meet you around back, okay?"

She sighed and nodded, standing and making her way out the door. Arthur went back out front and dragged Osmond Bennett's body inside, dropping him on the floor and quickly looting his pockets – ever the opportunist, though he didn't find much - before closing the door and snatching the lantern back up, following in the direction Willa had gone.

He found her around the back of the old building, sitting on her knees just inside her tent, duster discarded and shirt unbuttoned and half off, in the process of trying to peel the sleeve down over her wound. He caught her sharp intake of breath and noticed her trembling hands as he kneeled down beside her, setting the lantern on the ground. "You okay? You wanna tell me what you're doin' out here with that fella?"

She hissed and grit her teeth as he gently reached up to help her pull the sleeve down the rest of the way. "He's one of the boys that runs with my brother…found him playin' poker over at Emerald Station. Got him drunk, knocked him out, brought him back here to…mmnng…get some information out of him." She couldn't help groaning as he prodded the grisly wound on her arm, bringing the lantern up close to see the damage.

"Well, good news is, it's only a flesh wound. Bullet only grazed your arm, but it's deep." Arthur hummed to himself before setting the lantern down and grabbing one of the cloths he'd found from his coat pocket. He took the bottle of whiskey and poured some out onto the cloth before looking up at her. "This is gonna hurt."

She shot him a look that was somewhere between a withering smile and a grimace, grabbed the bottle from him and took another long drink, then grabbed the sleeve of her shirt and, very businesslike, jammed it between her teeth. She snorted out a breath through her nostrils and nodded at him to continue.

Arthur took the whiskey-soaked cloth and began cleaning around the wound. He didn't want to just jam the cloth straight into it, as he'd seen wounds treated that way become septic before. "Doin' good, darlin'…you got needle and thread anywhere? Might be best to stitch this up once it's clean…"

She shook her head vigorously in response. Once Arthur pulled the cloth away from her torn flesh she fumbled the hunting knife back out, holding it out towards him and then nodding her head towards the flame burning in the lantern.

Arthur blinked, looking back at her. "Jesus, I mean…that'll work, but you sure you want me to cauterize it like that?"

"Nnhnn." She nodded her head, looking him in the eyes to let him know she meant it. He sighed, opening the small hatch on one side of the lantern and took her knife from her, sticking the blade in over the flame and turning it back and forth. It took an agonizingly long time for the blade to start to heat up. In that time, Willa had spit out the sleeve of her shirt and managed to take another few sips from the bottle.

As he turned back to her she stuffed the fabric back into her mouth, eyes focused on the knife. Sweat was already pouring down her face, no doubt just from the anticipation of what was to come. Arthur let the blade cool down just a bit so that it was no longer glowing red, then curled his free hand around the underside of her arm to keep her steady. He looked up at her. "You ready?"

Willa nodded again, screwing her eyes shut. Arthur lined the blade up sideways and pressed it against the open gash on her arm, grimacing against the sizzling noise it made as it did the job of burning the wound closed.

A shrill moan escaped her throat, though she tried her best to muffle it. She hung her head, her shoulders trembling. As much as she'd thought she could fight it, she felt tears running down her cheeks.

Arthur kept the blade pressed against her skin for a few more tortuous moments before pulling it away, grabbing the whiskey cloth and soaking it again before pressing it to the spot he'd cauterized. Willa spit the sleeve out of her mouth again, cursing and curling her toes in her boots.

Once he was finally done, he released his grip on her arm and she fell backwards on her butt in the dirt, breathing heavily. She took a cautious look down at the blackened skin on her arm, sniffling and hastily wiping the moisture from her face. She hadn't really thought about the fact that she was in nothing from the waist up but a brassiere until just now. She cursed to herself, snatching up her shirt and trying to cover her breasts with it.

Arthur had, in fact, noticed that she was in nothing but her smallclothes and had made painstaking efforts not to make her feel embarrassed. It had been easy at first what with the serious business he'd been about, but in the few moments between him finally releasing her and her scrambling to cover herself, he'd noticed the various scars that dotted her arms and torso. Some looked like round cigar or cigarette burns, and he couldn't help frowning.

He averted his eyes after a moment and cleared his throat. "You have bandages? We should cover that, er, _wrap_ that wound up…" He stood up awkwardly, looking around.

Willa nodded her head towards where Tulip was tethered up next to a tree. "The s-saddlebags."

Arthur made his way over with the lantern, lifting the flap on the saddlebag and rummaging inside. After a minute he came back with a roll of clean gauze, squatting down next to her and coaxing her to lift her arm for him, trying to keep his eyes trained on her bicep.

"Why are you bein' so….so _nice_ to me?"

He blinked, finally raising his eyes to her as he began unwinding the cloth. "Well, I…I don't know. Reckon I…I guess I don't like seein' a woman put in your position, is all. Your brother must've done some terrible things. Hell, I've done some terrible things, but I'd never…never abuse a woman like that…" His voice got real low towards the end of his sentence, becoming more of a mumble.

Willa swallowed heavily, taking her arm and rolling the shoulder this way and that once he was done tying off the bandages. She grabbed for the whiskey again, appreciating the way the liquor dulled the screaming pain in her arm. She also decided she didn't give a damn if he saw her in her brassiere. She had a pretty solid feeling by now that this man might be many things, and certainly not all of them good, but he was not one to prey on a woman's vulnerabilities. He had obviously seen the scars, and was already piecing together his own story of how'd she'd gotten them.

"Most of these ain't even from him…"

He quirked an eyebrow at her questioningly.

She sighed, handing him the bottle. He deserved a drink as much as she did, she guessed. She began to pull the shirt back on, hissing in a breath when the sleeve went up over the bad arm. "Daddy died when Lettie and I were…ss-shit…were fourteen. After a year of it just bein' the three of us on the homestead, Everett decided we wasn't doin' enough to help bring money in. He uh…he decided the only way we could earn our keep was to whore us out to his friends who was willin' to pay. Some of 'em offered to pay better than others, and when they did, Everett would give 'em certain…privileges, I guess." She fell quiet as she finished buttoning up her shirt. She drew her knees up to her chest and locked her arms around her legs.

Arthur clenched his jaw, his expression stormy, but his voice oddly low and calm. "Like the privilege of burnin' you…?"

Her eyes slid up to meet his, remarkably steely given the painful memories she was churning up from the dead earth of her heart. She had given up being embarrassed of her sordid history long ago, but she hadn't ever really told anyone of it until now. The liquor and the pain were dulling her sense of caution, and she couldn't help but feel like an open book this man could pick up and read seemingly at will. The liquor was probably also a culprit in that, if she were honest.

"Burnin', beatin'…usually just about whatever fucked up thing they wanted to do to get their pleasure." She shrugged. "Usually anything was fine as long as it didn't damage the goods too much. Except…Lettie was killed three days after we turned seventeen. One of those men just…had his way with her and choked her to death at the same time, like it was nothin'."

Arthur took a long drink from the bottle before wiping his palm across his mouth and looking down and away, shaking his head.

"I killed the bastard that did it to her. Found him in the room with her…" she paused, her gaze drifting off into the distance behind him. "He spouted some nonsense at me, tryin' to make it look like an accident, I guess. I grabbed the first thing I saw, a poker in the fireplace, and I...well, I beat the ever-loving shit out of him."

Arthur gave a barely perceptible nod and muttered something that sounded like "good girl."

She reached around and grabbed a pouch of tobacco from her satchel. She unfolded a rolling paper and shook some of the dry leaves out onto it a little clumsily, poking it down and curling the paper into a tube as best she could between her still trembling fingers.

"Everett gave me hell for that. 'Hazards of the job,' he said. 'Wouldn't a happened if it weren't the only thing we was good for. She just weren't tough enough to make it.' Said that about his own goddamn sister. I tried to kill him too when he said that, gave him that lovely scar on his face. 'Course then he punched me square on the mouth and gave me this one…" She pointed a finger at the scar that ran diagonally at the left-hand corner where her lips met.

She let the hand drop after a moment and then lifted the cigarette to her mouth to wet the paper with her tongue before rolling it up and sealing it with her fingers. She stuck the narrow end of the cigarette between her lips and went to rummage in her pockets for some matches when Arthur produced one and struck it deftly with his thumbnail, holding the tiny flame out for her.

Willa's eyes met his once more and she scoffed after getting the cigarette lit, leaning back and away from him and pluming smoke from her nostrils. Her expression turned frigid. "Don't you look at me like that, Mr. Morgan."

He grimaced and narrowed his eyes. "Like what?"

"Like you pity me."

"Now I don't…it ain't…" He let out a frustrated sigh, not knowing how to proceed. He knew a thing or two about abuse from growing up with Lyle Morgan for a daddy, but the things she had described to him were a foreign horror all their own. He looked out for all the women in the gang like they were his younger sisters, and his immediate reaction was to picture any one of them in that situation. It made his blood burn.

"…It ain't pity. Let me ask you somethin'. Did you get anything out of that Bennett fella?"

Her mouth twitched and she looked away. "No. He got himself untied and jumped me before I got the chance."

"Well then, it may not be much, but I got somethin' for you. I saw your brother, a little over a week ago. On a train headed south through Scarlett Meadows."

Arthur could see the muscles in her jaw working as her gaze flew back to meet his. "What? Did he recognize you from-?"

He shook his head. "No, no. Least I don't think so. We was..." He reached up to scratch under his chin rather nervously. "Well, we was robbin' the train. So I had a, ya know, a bandana over my face and all." He cleared his throat.

She blinked. "Well what happened? Do you know where it was headed? You didn't talk to him did you?"

Arthur shrugged his broad shoulders and shook his head. "South, so Rhodes, or St. Denis I guess? I recognized him in one of the cars we was passin' through, looked mighty displeased about the whole thing. Course, he didn't wanna contribute to the collection, so I did have to smack him around a little bit. He sure looked like he wanted to shoot me, but seemed like he was ridin' alone and we had more guns than he did, so…" He shrugged again.

Willa took another drag from her cigarette, chewing her lip and looking hard at some point off in the distance. Her eyes finally slid back to him and she reached out, curling her fingers over his forearm in an appreciative gesture. "Thank you."

His mouth was set in a pretty firm grimace, but he gave her a nod and tilted his head low in that way he had, so that his hat hid his eyes. "I hope it helps. I really do. Ya know, we got some women in my gang, some real fine women, all like little sisters to me. If I had the chance to help any of them put down a dog like that, I…well, I guess I'd take it without much second guessin'."

She was silent for what seemed like a long time. When she finally spoke, the words came slowly. "I can't change the past, I know that well enough. I spent a long time dwellin' there, and it never came to nothin'. I ain't some stupid naïve little girl anymore. I got one thing to look forward to in this life, and that's makin' sure whatever devil it was crawled up inside of my brother, goes straight back to hell. And you've helped me. So thank you. Those women are lucky to have you."

Arthur shook his head and put a hand up, waving it like he was dismissing her comment. "Nah…I ain't done that much. Gave you a lead, is all. Seems like you've come this far all on your own…and that takes some real strength. You been chasin' after him this long, seems like he must be some kinda slippery bastard."

Willa looked up at him, eyes searching his face in the darkness. She let out the smallest of befuddled chuckles before asking, "who _are_ you, Mr. Morgan?"

Arthur quirked an eyebrow, confused. "I'm nobody, Miss Thorne." He got to his feet before she could say anything else. "Listen, I'm gonna start a fire…" Before he could escape off into the outskirts of the cabin's yard he paused, shrugging off his newly acquired fur-lined scout jacket and placing it gently over Wilhelmina's shoulders. She looked up at him with an unreadable expression.

"You should try to keep warm." He cleared his throat, nodded awkwardly and turned away to hightail it for the trees.

She blinked a couple times, suddenly feeling a burning sensation behind her eyes again. Jesus, why did she feel like she was going to start bawling like a little baby? She squeezed her eyelids shut, taking a deep breath and drawing the coat tighter around herself. Her arm hurt like the devil. The coat smelled like tobacco and wood smoke and gunpowder. Her fingers rubbed at the soft fur interior distractedly.

 _Rhodes, or St. Denis, I guess?_ Arthur's words echoed in her mind. She would chase Everett south, but things always got tougher when he spent time in a big city like she'd heard St. Denis was. Easier to get lost in. But it was also easier to pick up on hearsay if you found yourself in the right company. She couldn't help but to feel like she might finally be closing in on him after all this time. Maybe 1899 would finally be the year she could put paid to his black existence.

Her thoughts drifted back to the other things Mr. Morgan had said. _We was robbin' the train._ So he _was_ some kind of a bandit, then. Fit with what Lenny had said that night in Valentine, plus she'd had her suspicions since the run-in with that O'Driscoll gang. They'd called Arthur and Charles 'Dutch's dogs,' which obviously meant they had history with each other. Two rival gangs, then. Must have been lots of bad blood between them to just attack on sight when they didn't seem to be carrying much worth stealing except a woman.

She looked up as she heard his footsteps approaching. He had an armload of branches and a few dry logs that he heaped in a pile on the ground. He squatted and went about grabbing some rocks and setting them up in a small ring, building a little teepee of sticks in the center of it.

"Why didn't you just tell me you boys were outlaws?"

His gaze flickered up at her briefly before refocusing on getting the fire lit. He struck a match and held it close under the little structure he'd built, trying to get the flame to catch. "Not the kinda thing I try to go around advertisin'. Plus I'm pretty sure Lenny did, back in Valentine."

She snorted. "Guess I didn't believe him. You sure don't act like any bandit I ever met."

He shrugged. "I was raised by a man with a kind of a…moral code. 'We shoot fellas as need shootin', save fellas as need savin', and feed them as needs feedin'.' That's what he's said, long as I can remember." A humorless chuckle escaped him. "Not sure how much truth there is in that whole Robin Hood charade anymore, though. Christ, I've shot up two whole towns just in the last month, one of 'em I still don't even know _why_ …and we're runnin' from goddamn Pinkertons besides."

Her eyes widened, searching his in the dim glow of the fire he'd finally gotten to kindle. "Ain't that a little high profile? Look, sorry if I don't believe you, but you just wrapped the softest coat I _ever_ touched around my shoulders like I was the goddamn Queen of Sheba. And you're tellin' me you're a no good outlaw, runnin' in a wanted gang, robbin' trains and shootin' up entire towns?"

He gave her a smug look as he fed a few more branches into the little fire, working on building it up. "I ain't just a gentleman and a scholar, milady."

Willa couldn't help it. She burst out laughing. It might have been the drink, but that was just about the silliest thing she'd heard in a good long time. She didn't understand this Arthur Morgan at all.

He just smirked and shook his head. After poking one of the larger logs into the fire, he reached over and grabbed the bottle of whiskey, finally taking a real seat on the ground and resting his arms on his knees. "And besides, I paid damn good money for that coat. _Better be soft_ …"

That made her snort and kept her giggling for a few more minutes. She finally reigned herself in, wiping at her eyes with the heel of her hand. God, she'd forgotten how good it was to really talk to somebody. And to laugh? That was even better.

Arthur took a drink from the bottle, grimacing slightly as he swallowed.

"So that man who raised you…taught you that code. You still runnin' with him? And a bunch of ladies? And Lenny and Charles?"

Arthur nodded, handing the bottle over to her. "Just about, and a few more besides. Dutch, he's taken in a lot of folk over the years. I was the first. Nasty little 14-year-old brat, and I'd been on my own for a few years already before that…well Dutch and Hosea, they put clothes on my back and fed me and taught me to read and ride and how to shoot. Taught me just about everything. I been ridin' with them for over twenty years now…"

"Huh…I remember a man named Hosea came to stay with us for a bit when daddy was alive. Funny kind of name, ya know? So…what did this gang of yours do to get Pinkertons on your tail? I was in Chicago a few years ago, ya know, where they're based out of? You could barely move without bumpin' into one of 'em…"

Arthur snorted. "They do seem to be some prolific type of vermin, don't they? We was down in Blackwater, more'n six months ago now. Hosea and I had split off, gettin' ready to run our own heist on some fools runnin' real estate scams. Dutch and the others planned out some big ferry robbery that just…I don't know, it turned out real bad I guess. I still ain't even figured out exactly what happened. But when we all met back up, it was to run for the hills with none of the money and barely any supplies. It used to be so easy, and now…now it just seems like we're swimmin' in real deep waters. And I don't know if we can keep chasin' Dutch's big dreams of bein' free. Seems like the further forward we push, the tighter the noose gets pulled…"

Wilhelmina tipped up the bottle and took a drink before setting it down between them and chewing her lip thoughtfully. "Bein' free at what cost? I mean you said somethin' about Robin Hood before. Was that how it was? Only robbin' from the rich to give to the poor and all that?"

Arthur sighed, reaching forward to grab some more branches and feed them into the fire. "I guess it was a lot of that for a long time. With fewer people to watch out for, we'd just ride on into a town and pull a few cons or rob the bank and slip out and make a show of throwin' some of the money at the locals and be done with it. But now, with more people lookin' to Dutch to provide for 'em, and the Pinkertons spreadin' across the whole country like goddamn fleas, it's…" He shrugged, not sure how to convey his conflicted feelings. "Times are changin', and we ain't. Outlaws are like big, dangerous, dumb animals. Only fit to be hunted down and butchered or thrown into a cage. There ain't gonna be no place for us in the 20th century…"

Arthur and Wilhelmina continued talking well into the night, managing to polish off the whiskey and even get through half a bottle of gin Arthur had stashed in his saddlebags. Their conversation seemed to come easy, and the both of them felt some relief at having found someone they could confide in.

Arthur could talk to a lot of the folks back at camp, but his real place was to be Dutch's first and foremost supporter and enforcer. He was not supposed to voice his doubts, and he felt guilty enough for even having any. He felt he owed everything to Dutch van der Linde, and a staggering amount of his own self-worth hinged on that man's approval. Hosea was the only person in the gang to have openly questioned Dutch's modus operandi as of late, and he was probably the only one who could.

The drunker the two of them became, the more they shared – Willa had already told Arthur quite a bit more about her past and her family than she would have ever expected to, but she was glad to be able to tell him some happier stories as well. How their father had done his absolute best to raise two daughters after their mother had died during their difficult birth, teaching them to hunt and shoot and take care of their little mountain homestead just like he had with Everett when he was younger and still an only child. Ezra Thorne had been a moonshiner after the Civil War, and though he was hardly ever without a bottle after the death of his wife he made damn sure to impart as much of what little wisdom and skill he had to his three children as he could.

Arthur, in his turn, told Wilhelmina what he could remember about his parents before his mother had died and his father had been hanged. He made sure to throw in some self-deprecating jokes about how he hadn't turned out much different than his daddy, but thankfully no woman would have him for a husband so at least he wouldn't turn out to be a wife beater too. She had jabbed him roughly in the shoulder with her good arm after that particularly humorless quip, insisting she had only known him for a total of a few days but she already knew him better than he knew himself if that was really what he thought.

That section of conversation had led to Arthur bringing up Mary Linton (or Mary Gillis, as she was called when the two of them had still been so young and sweet on one another what felt like a lifetime ago). Willa was practically enraptured with the image of such romance, it being a thing she had never experienced herself. Arthur told her she was most likely better off, and she shushed him and pressed him to continue. She had gasped when Arthur told her about meeting up with Mary once again only a few weeks previous.

"After _fifteen years_? What happened? Did it feel like nothin' changed? Did you take her out into a field of sunflowers or poppies or somethin' romantic and just have your way with her?"

Arthur burst out into a hearty and somewhat shocked guffaw at such a blunt question. "Jesus woman, no! Of course I didn't! It…well…" He scratched the back of his neck nervously and sighed. "It _was_ like nothin' had changed. I guess that's sorta the problem with me and Mary…"

"What do you mean? Ain't that a good thing?"

"I'm still an outlaw and she's still pressed firmly under poppa's big fat thumb. Only now she's a widow and her younger brother's finally old enough to decide _he_ wants to rebel. That's the whole reason she even wrote to me in the first place, was to go fetch Jamie back for her. And fool that I am, I took one look at that letter and went runnin'."

"You still love her."

"I don't know. I think I still love the _idea_ of her. Everything I never was and never could be, and all that nonsense. Whenever we get near each other its like everything real just gets all blurred and confused with this cockamamie idea that somehow we'll both stop bein' who we are and just turn into people who can survive solely on their love for each other. It ain't honest, or fair, or realistic. And I think we both know that as soon as we ain't near each other no more. It's like…magnets, or somethin'…I don't know."

"Huh…anyone ever tell you you're a pretty good storyteller?"

"Heh." He dipped his head. "Nah…I ain't good at much, 'cept lookin' scary and killin' folks."

* * *

When they finally decided to hit the hay, Arthur set his own tent up right next to hers. He checked to make sure she was okay a few different times before crawling in under the tent flap and settling in on top of his bedroll. He pulled his journal from his satchel, scribbling a few odd notes on his adventures over the last few days. He probably stayed up way too late sketching out two people on the ground in front of a decrepit old cabin, fighting for control of a gun.

When they woke the next morning, Arthur insisted on checking her arm before they broke down their camp. She sighed and grumbled a bit, but obliged him and unbuttoned her shirt far enough so that she could slip her shoulder out. He unwrapped the gauze and examined the wound, finally nodding to himself and muttering that it didn't look like it was becoming infected. As he wrapped a fresh strip of the fabric around her arm, he glanced up at her. "So what next for you? Headin' south?"

She had been watching him wrap the wound, but she glanced up to meet his gaze when he spoke. "Yes."

Arthur nodded, humming to himself in a low tone. "Our gang just set up a new camp down by Rhodes. If you're headin' that direction anyway, you're welcome to ride with me. That is, if you ain't troubled by the knowledge of ridin' with a no-good outlaw."

She cleared her throat and slipped the shirt back up over her shoulder once he was finished. "I've killed my share of people, Mr. Morgan. I may not have killed that man back in Valentine, but I _was_ plannin' on it. I think you keep forgettin' that I ain't some delicate flower." She smirked at him as he gave her a faintly concerned look. "I ain't troubled. I'll gladly ride with you."


	5. Clemens Point - Pillars of Salt

**TWO WEEKS LATER**

This was bad.

Wilhelmina groaned, blinking her eyes a few times and looking around the room she'd just woken up in. Her head was killing her, and though her arm had been healing and scabbing over nicely, it sang with pain as well. She must have been dropped on that side when those Confederate-looking assholes brought her to this dump. Her ankles were tied together and her hands were bound behind her back. Her tongue darted back from the sour taste of the bandana that was keeping her gagged.

Lemoyne Raiders. That's what she remembered them calling themselves. Two of them had ridden up beside her as she'd been leaving Rhodes the day before, spouting some nonsense about newcomers to their state needing to pay a toll. She'd obviously declined, and then all hell had broken loose. She'd tried to put up a valiant fight but before she knew it there were just too many men riding her down and they had knocked her off Tulip and into the dirt. One of them had slugged her on the back of the head with the butt of his rifle and she'd woken up in this room last night.

Her brows furrowed. Her breath came in heavy bursts through her nostrils as she strained at the ropes binding her wrists. They had come in to antagonize her a few times since then, making their intentions plain as day, hoping to scare her into helpless submission. Thankfully, none of them had actually tried anything just yet.

Her head snapped up as she heard a burst of gunfire outside. She made a strangled sound behind the bandana, wiggling her arms uselessly. It sounded like the raiders were being attacked. She heard yelling and cursing coming from downstairs, men ditching whatever menial tasks they were occupied with to grab their guns and join the fray.

Sweat mixed with dry blood and trickled down Willa's forehead as she tried to worm her way across the dirty floorboards, towards where she could see pieces of glass glinting in the sunlight from a broken window. She had to get out of this hole before the raiders chased off whoever was attacking and remembered that they had a treat upstairs.

The gunfire continued incessantly for a few more minutes and she could tell by the proximity of the shots that whoever was attacking was pushing their way forward, closer to the house. Now she was scared that whoever it was - if they managed to kill all the raiders - wouldn't be kind to her either. She paused to take a few deep breaths and tried to blink some of the sweat and dirt from her eyes before continuing towards the window.

The fight seemed to be slowing now. Not as many men alive to be shooting, she guessed. She wiggled herself up next to the window and rolled onto her side, fingers fumbling across the floor to find a sliver of glass.

The sound of an explosion just outside the house made her jump and she fumbled with a thick piece of glass, feeling it slice into her palm. A sharp cry escaped her, but the bandana mostly muffled it. She very carefully passed the glass from the fingers of the one hand that had become slick with blood to the dry fingers of her other hand. She willed those fingers to be nimble enough to use the glass to saw through the rope.

* * *

Once the last of the militia had been put down, Lenny asked Arthur if he'd go check the wagons for the weapons they'd come to Shady Belle to commandeer. Arthur nodded, holstering his revolver and a sawed-off shotgun and turning to make his way around the side of the big old plantation house.

Lenny entered through the large double doors, immediately going room to room to search for any other loot he could grab from those racist old bastards. He knew outriders would probably be arriving soon after the ruckus of all that gunfire, so he had to be quick about it. He lunged up the stairs two at a time after he'd finished searching the first floor.

Willa's head snapped up as she heard footsteps coming towards the door. She tried to work the glass faster, biting down hard on the ratty piece of fabric between her teeth, breath coming in fast, heavy snorts. She had managed to get herself up into a sitting position and she pressed her backside against the wall, forcing the glass to cut deeper into the rope.

Lenny threw open the door of the first room he came to at the top of the stairs and his jaw dropped. Seeing a figure in the room, his first instinct was to grab for his gun but when he recognized the person on the floor was _definitely_ a captive and _then_ he recognized that the captive on the floor was _definitely_ Willa Thorne, his hand flew to his hunting knife instead.

Willa's wrists flew free from the ropes just as the door to the room opened. Her weapons had been taken from her, so she reached up for anything she could find on the small dresser that sat against the wall beside her. Her hand tripped upon what she thought might be an ashtray and she launched it at the figure in the doorway.

Lenny jumped to the side as the ceramic ashtray crashed into the wall a few inches from his head. "Jesus! It's me, Lenny! I ain't gonna hurt you!"

She was breathing heavily around the bandana, hair plastered to her face in the sweat and blood. It took her a few moments before recognition finally dawned on her. All of a sudden her features fell and she let out a cracked moan through the bandana, slumping forward a little and hanging her head.

Lenny wasn't sure if she was laughing or sobbing. He darted forward and dropped to one knee on the ground next to her, wrapping one arm around her shoulders to make sure she stayed upright while he began sawing at the ropes binding her feet.

Once she was free he let her wrap her arms around his neck, tentatively reaching up to cup the back of her head in his hand, pressing her gently to his chest. "Hey there…hey now, it's okay…"

Arthur's footsteps echoed in the old house as he made his way up the stairs. "Lenny! Where are ya? There's a horse tied up outside, I think it belongs to-" His words died in his throat as he saw Lenny and Wilhelmina on the floor of the room with the open door. "Jesus!"

Willa had pulled away from Lenny to yank that disgusting bandana out of her mouth. She ripped it up over her head with trembling fingers and threw it into the corner. She looked over as she heard Arthur's voice. "You boys…ohh, you boys! You don't know how goddamn happy I am to see you." A strangled laugh escaped her as she held her bloody hand up to her chest, wincing.

Arthur hurried over to them, dropping to a knee and placing his hand on her shoulder. "We gotta get gone from here. Can you walk?"

Willa nodded, taking the hand Lenny offered her with her good one and getting shakily to her feet. Arthur immediately wrapped an arm around her shoulders and motioned for Lenny to lead them out. They followed him down the stairs and outside to where a wagon sat.

Arthur led Wilhelmina toward the wagon, glancing over at Lenny. "Chest in the wagon's full of new rifles."

"We can sell those, right?"

"We sure can. We'll check the rest later." Arthur untied the black bandana he was wearing around his neck and coaxed Willa's bloody hand away from her chest. He turned it so her palm was facing him and gently pressed her fingers up with his calloused thumb, keeping her hand open while he wrapped the bandana around it. Once he was done he told her to keep the pressure on, even though he knew she probably knew that.

He wrapped his big hands around her waist and effortlessly lifted her up into the back of the wagon. "C'mon, let's go. Lenny, ride in back with her. The horses'll follow behind. Let's get back to camp."

Lenny quickly obliged, hopping up into the back of the wagon and settling down next to Wilhelmina. She gave two short whistles to Tulip, who was busy grazing in the grass a few yards away. "C'mon girl. On me." The mare's head whipped towards them, then the rest of her body followed as she made her way over toward the wagon.

Arthur pulled himself up onto the driver's seat and grabbed the reigns, cracking them to set the horses going. Lenny's voice rose up from the back of the wagon behind him. "Go, go! Let's haul!"

Lenny leaned up over the side of the wagon as they made their way past where they'd left their horses. "C'mon, gee up. Fall in."

Maggie and Arthur's horse fell into step beside Tulip and they all made their way out of Shady Belle.

Of course they encountered those outriders just as they had hit the turn-off to join back up with the main road. Thankfully there had only been three of them, and Lenny and Arthur both made quick work of their attackers. Lenny had urged Willa to stay down, knowing she had no weapons she could fight with.

As they were riding away, Arthur couldn't help but shake his head. "Leonard, Leonard, Leonard…"

Lenny piped up from the back of the wagon. "I'm lookin', alright? I can't see anyone else chasin' us."

"I should think we're outta the woods then, so to speak. Miss Thorne, how you gettin' on back there?"

"Oh, just dandy Mr. Morgan!"

Arthur let go of the reigns with one hand to rummage in his satchel. He pulled out a pistol and reached back behind him. "I believe this is yours? I got your knife too."

She reached up and took the pistol, then took the knife when he held that back to her as well. "Thank you. Thank you boys. I don't know what I-"

"Now now, none of that, Miss Willa. We found you. That's all that matters. Right, Arthur?"

Arthur grunted back at Lenny in return, nodding his head once. "S'right."

Lenny climbed up onto his knees and leaned over the back of the bench where Arthur sat, crossing his arms under his chest. They talked for a while during the ride about Lenny's place in the gang, Arthur offering the kid encouragement and telling him to keep up all of his hard work. They mentioned somebody named Sean, whom Arthur said was a loudmouth and a braggart and whose opinions apparently didn't matter very much to anybody.

She tried to collect herself while the two men talked. She clutched her wounded hand into a fist and let her head rest against the side of the wagon, watching the horses trotting along behind them. She must have dozed off at some point, because Lenny's shouting startled her back to reality some time later.

"Arthur, Lenny, comin' back!" The wagon slowed to a stop. Arthur climbed down from the driver's seat and walked around to the back of the wagon, hopping up beside them. He shot Wilhelmina a questioning glance and she nodded slightly. "I'm okay."

Arthur gave her a nod and moved past her to get a better look at the cache of weapons. He pulled one of the guns out, flipping it over and examining it. "These're fine rifles."

Lenny's face split into a grin. "Right?"

"I'm gonna keep one, just for me…" He let the rifle drop to his side and reached his free hand down toward Lenny. "Hey…I always enjoy ridin' with you, kid."

Lenny reached up and clasped Arthur's extended hand in his own, a small chuckle escaping his lips.

Arthur slung the rifle over his shoulder and reached down to help Willa stand. She grasped his hand and let him pull her to her feet. All three of them moved to the end of the wagon, Arthur and Lenny jumping down first. Arthur immediately turned and lifted his hands toward her, motioning for her to move forward so he could grab her by her hips and set her on the ground.

Once she was down on her feet, Arthur turned back to Lenny. "Go get Miss Grimshaw, would ya, kid? Have her get some things from Strauss to fix up Miss Thorne's hand."

Lenny nodded and gave Willa a smile and a reassuring pat on the shoulder before taking off to find the old matron of the camp. Arthur turned back to her. "C'mon. We can go to my tent. You'll get the chance to meet everybody soon enough, I'm sure."

Willa followed him, ogling at the camp. It was large. Larger than she'd ever expected when he'd been talking to her about his gang a few weeks ago. It was both a beautiful and practical spot, nestled up against Flat Iron Lake as it was. She saw people milling about between the tents and wagons, some glancing up from work or lounging to stare at her as she walked close at Arthur's heels. "I'm guessin' it ain't normal for you to bring strange women back here?"

He spared her a somewhat withering gaze. "Not exactly. I assume Dutch and Hosea'll wanna speak wit' you. Make sure you ain't a Pinkerton spy or some such nonsense."

She rolled her eyes. "Lord have mercy…"

He brought her to the center of the camp and ushered her in under a tent constructed off the side of what looked like a munitions wagon. Susan Grimshaw bustled up with Lenny at her heels just as Arthur had coaxed Wilhelmina to take a seat on his cot.

"Mr. Morgan! And who's this young lady you've brought to us?" She immediately grabbed Willa's hand and pulled it towards her so she could pull the bandana off and examine it.

Lenny set a few tonics and some bandages on the small table next to Arthur's cot, shooting him a suffering gaze behind Grimshaw's back. "This here's Willa Thorne, Miss Grimshaw. We met her back in Valentine a while ago, and just happened to rescue her from some of those Lemoyne Raiders a ways south of here."

Grimshaw clicked her tongue in reply and glanced over, grabbing one of the tonics. She unceremoniously dumped it out over the cut in Willa's palm and pressed a rag to the wound. Willa hissed, trying to pull the hand back towards her chest but the older woman had a firm grasp on it.

"And will she be staying with us?" She moved to take a seat on the cot beside Wilhelmina, never letting off the pressure to her hand the whole time.

Willa responded before either of the men got the chance to. "No. No, I appreciate your helpin' me like this, but I ain't gonna be a bother to anybody. I'll go once you're finished with me."

Arthur piped in firmly. "She'll be stayin' as long as she likes, Miss Grimshaw. Lenny and I can both vouch for her."

Lenny nodded in agreement and Grimshaw hummed with an air of ambivalence, checking the wound again now that it was cleaned up. "Mr. Summers, fetch me a needle and silk thread would you? It'll need to be stitched up."

Lenny ran off back to Strauss' wagon and Willa shot a nervous glance at Arthur as two other men walked up to the tent. One was older, in his 60's she guessed, and thin. The other was younger with black hair, sharply dressed and smoking a cigar dramatically.

Arthur stood from where he'd been leaning against the crates stacked at the end of his cot. "Dutch, Hosea…"

Willa blinked, brows drawing down as she studied the older man more closely and realization began to dawn on her. "Hosea….Hosea Matthews!?"

The man stopped short, gazing at her questioningly. "Do I know you from somewhere, miss…?"

The one who must have been Dutch stopped beside Hosea, fingers twitching for the fine ivory grip of one of the revolvers at his hip. He looked like he wanted to say something but remained silent for the moment and only looked quizzically around at the other people in the tent. Arthur and Miss Grimshaw both raised their eyebrows.

"Were you…did you and your wife spend some time, years ago, with a family in the mountains in Pennsylvania? A man named Ezra Thorne, and his children?"

Slowly, a look of recognition dawned in the older man's eyes. "Why yes, we…we did. Are you-?"

"Wilhelmina."

Hosea's expression softened right up and he put his hands on his hips above where his guns sat, shaking his head. "Little Wilhelmina Thorne. My god, yes! Of course I remember you, dear girl. You, and Loretta and Everett. My, you've grown up!"

Lenny came back to Arthur's tent with the needle and silk and handed them to Miss Grimshaw, stepping to the side to stand next to Arthur.

Miss Grimshaw made quick work of threading the needle, holding Willa's hand steady in her own. "Keep still now, Miss Thorne."

Willa gritted her teeth and hissed as the older woman wasted no time in beginning to suture up the skin on her palm. Hosea moved closer, putting a comforting hand on her shoulder. "There, now. Mark my words dear, Miss Grimshaw's got the finest stitch in these parts."

Willa glanced up at Hosea with a mildly disdainful smirk.

He chuckled slightly, then motioned behind him toward the other man. "Oh, this fellow here is Dutch van der Linde, the leader of our little band of mischief-makers. I'm sure he's as curious as I am to know what's brought you here."

Dutch stepped forward, puffing on the cigar. "I am curious indeed. Although if you're an old friend of Hosea's, I'm sure we'll have no problems accommodating you, Miss Thorne…" Dutch's smile didn't reach his eyes, and she got the distinct feeling he had made the offer for Hosea's benefit only.

Willa nodded. "Thank you, Mr. van der Linde. I appreciate that, but I really don't want to be any trouble. These boys saved my life and I owe them for it, but I don't need to be leechin' any of more of your time or supplies…"

"No trouble at all, my dear. No trouble at all. Listen, you two get caught up. And then catch me up. Just don't take too long. We've still yet to discuss what to do with those two families…" Dutch directed that last part at Hosea before ashing the cigar on the ground and turning away.

Hosea looked over at Dutch and gave him a nod of understanding. His brows drew down and he coughed into his arm a few times before returning his attention to Willa and Susan.

Miss Grimshaw pulled the last stitch, tying off a tidy little knot at the end of the thread. She snipped the excess with a small pair of scissors and stood up, waving the tiny blades at Wilhelmina in a vaguely threatening manner. "You give that a few weeks before you go tryin' to yank it all out, missy."

Willa nodded, finally understanding what it must have been like for young girls who endured the wrath of particularly spiteful schoolmarms. Having finally reclaimed her hand from Grimshaw's clutches, she grimaced at it and flexed her fingers a little bit before letting it drop into her lap.

Hosea rubbed his chin, examining the woman that sat before him. She was dirty and bloody and a little smelly. "Arthur, fetch a bucket of wash water for Miss Thorne so she can get herself cleaned up, would you? And Mr. Summers, see if you can finagle some food from Pearson, please? Honestly, where are your manners, boys?"

Arthur and Lenny glanced at each other and immediately took off to their assigned tasks. Hosea looked in the direction of their retreating backs for a moment and chortled softly before taking a seat on the cot next to Wilhelmina and turning to face her. "There, now that we've got a moment to ourselves. It really is a pleasure, Miss Thorne. I've missed your father a great deal in the years since we met. Is he…?"

"Dead," Willa replied, the corner of her mouth quirking at a weird angle. "About fifteen years now. And Lettie, about twelve."

Hosea sighed heavily, lowering his gaze and shaking his head. "I am very sorry, my dear. That's a shame."

Wilhelmina's eyes narrowed, a tinge of concern discernible in her voice. "Is Miss Bessie here with you?"

It was Hosea's turn for a sad smile as he shook his head. "She'll have been gone nine years this November."

Her lip trembled slightly as she nodded. Somehow, as soon as she had recognized who Hosea was, the fact that his wife was not standing there right next to him like a shrewd business partner had been an ominous foreshadowing.

"She did so love you girls, you know. Gushed about you two for years."

"We loved her too. She was the closest thing we ever had to a mother." Willa's mouth quirked again and she blinked back the tears that threatened. The past few days had been a lot, to say the least. She'd gone from being sure she was going to be brutalized and killed (and still with unfinished business, at that) to being plopped down in the middle of a large outlaw gang in just a matter of a few hours; feeling very much like a fish out of water and like everyone outside that tent was eyeing her with suspicion. She did not enjoy feeling like she was the center of attention unless she needed to in order to get at a bounty, had in fact worked quite hard at avoiding it for a great many years.

Arthur returning with a bucket of water and a few towels was a welcome distraction, and she took the terrycloth from him gratefully. He set the bucket on the ground in front of her and dragged his little washstand over so she'd have a mirror and some soap when she needed it.

She got to work soaking one of the towels, peering at her dirty face in the mirror as she grabbed for the soap. Arthur crossed his arms and took up his previous position leaning lazily against the crates. "So you two go way back, huh?"

Hosea turned towards Arthur, filling him in some while he gave Wilhelmina time to get herself a bit cleaned up. "Remember the year Bessie and I took off the from the gang? Must've been '80 or '81, thereabouts. We headed east a ways, ended up in the Poconos. Beautiful country. Met this one's father and fell right in with him. Bessie always liked to say we was like the two jokers in a deck of cards." He smiled wistfully at that. "He needed some help on his homestead and the two of us was lookin' for honest work. Well, mostly honest."

Wilhelmina was using her good hand to thoroughly scrub her forehead. "Miss Bessie helped teach Lettie and me to read." She lowered the soggy towel and scowled at herself in the mirror before reaching up and scrubbing the side of her face where some blood still lingered. "And Mr. Matthews, you taught me to ride on your horse."

"Please, just Hosea now. And God, yes, I was flabbergasted when Ezra admitted he'd never put either of you girls on the back of a horse before." He chuckled to himself at the memory, shaking his head.

Lenny returned to Arthur's tent with a bowl of what they jokingly called 'Pearson's never-ending stew.' He set it down on the table next to Arthur's photograph of his mother before turning to leave again. "I gotta go make sure the horses get fed, but here's somethin' hot for you whenever you're ready Miss Willa."

"Thank you, Lenny." She glanced over at Hosea again before setting the dirty towel on the ground, finished with her washing for the time being. "I gotta say, I appreciate all of this, I really do, but-"

Arthur cut her off by placing the steaming bowl of venison stew into her lap and then holding out a spoon for her. "I know you're antsy girl, we all see you fidgeting. At least get somethin' to eat and then you can decide if you wanna take off. Hosea, I gotta go talk to Bill about this job I keep hearin' him bringin' up. Keep an eye on her?"

Willa blew gently on a spoonful of the stew, her belly grumbling at the sudden realization that it had been empty for some time. She gave Arthur a sideways glance. "I feel like everybody's goddamn eyes is already on me…"

Hosea smirked up at Arthur and nodded. "Lenny told me how you found her. I'll make sure she gets some rest." His tone became a bit more lighthearted as he continued, waving his hand towards the world outside the tent, "and make sure the poor thing doesn't get eaten alive by these fearsome animals."

Arthur nodded back and tipped his hat in Willa's direction. "I know it's probably a lot to take in, but most of the folks here are real decent. You stick with Hosea, or find Charles or Lenny, or fall in with the girls, you'll do just fine. I have a feelin' I'm goin' along with whatever crackpot thing Bill's got cooked up, so I may be gone 'til tonight, maybe even tomorrow."

Willa glanced up at Arthur and swallowed a mouthful of the stew. "You really askin' me to hang around that long?"

"You gon' need that time to come up with how you're gonna repay us for savin' your life…again." Arthur gave her a smug look before hooking his thumbs in his belt and walking away from them.

Hosea barked out a laugh and slowly got to his feet, patting her on the knee as he stood. "And I've got to go speak to Dutch. If you're tired, why don't you just have a lie-down right here? I'm sure Arthur won't mind."

* * *

Arthur did return to camp that night, although it was hours after Karen, Bill and Lenny had already rolled back in. He had made a special stop at the Scarlett Meadows stables after their narrow escape from the bank robbery they'd just committed in Valentine, excited from both the chase and the prospect of finally having some real cash lining his pockets. He'd decided to treat himself if any of the horses at the stable caught his eye.

Sure enough, he couldn't stop going back to look at a beautiful sooty buckskin Dutch Warmblood tucked into the furthest stall at the end of the stable. The first thing she'd done was crane her neck forward and lip his hat right off his head, flicking her tail and staring him down with her large, intelligent eyes. She had nickered quietly and shaken her head, her dreadlocked mane making soft rustling sounds against her neck.

Arthur had chuckled at that, murmuring some compliments to the large mare before reaching out and rather politely attempting to take his hat back. She whinnied softly and pushed her muzzle into his palm, and his heart was taken. He sold the Morgan he'd bought on his first trip to Valentine to the stable owner, saying goodbye with a thank you and a warm pat and one last apple before removing his saddle and transferring it to the brown and black mare.

As he'd ridden back to camp, a name had suddenly popped into his head. He took this as a good sign, seeing as how he'd never even thought to name the Morgan anything other than the perfunctory 'good boy' or 'my boy' he used as terms of endearment. He smirked to himself as he reached forward to run his palm down behind Llamrei's flicking ear, hoping Sean wouldn't give him too much guff about the blatant King Arthur reference. _Cocky Irish bastard_ , he thought to himself with a small chuckle.

As he rode in at an easy trot he called out a greeting at Javier, who was standing at the edge of the trail on guard duty.

"'Ey, amigo." Javier quirked an eyebrow in the darkness, calling after him. "That a new horse?"

"Yes! Think she's gon' do real fine!" His voice lowered as he leaned down some and purred at the horse. "Ain't you, girl?"

Arthur tethered Llamrei at one of the hitching posts, looking around and noticing that Tulip was lying down in the grass a few yards away. So she had stayed. Another small smile crossed his features at the thought of Willa having to deal with so many _people_. He honestly hoped the gang hadn't bombarded her. A black mood threatened at the back of his mind at the thought of Micah Bell making any sort of contact with her at all and he struggled to push it back.

He was busy dragging over a bale of hay for his new four-legged friend to munch on for supper when he caught the sound of singing hitting his ears. He sighed and rolled his eyes, already picturing Uncle and Pearson and Sean sat around the campfire, drunk as a bunch of skunks. Karen and Bill too, more than likely.

He almost tripped over Kieren's sleeping form as he walked by the scout fire, cursing and shaking his head as he made his way toward his wagon. "Damn O'Driscoll...get his own damn tent," he muttered to himself as he pulled off his riding gloves. He skirted around Pearson's chuck wagon and came to a halt just under the tarp that hung over his meager living quarters.

Willa was scrunched up into a ball on the corner of his cot, asleep sitting up with her back against the wheel of the wagon and her knees curled up toward her chest. The cavalry hat was pulled down over her face and her arms were crossed in front of her. Her shoulders moved up and down almost imperceptibly in time with her even breathing.

Arthur sighed and scratched the back of his neck, unsure what proper protocol was for this kind of situation. He was exhausted after two shootouts and a bank robbery all in one day. A lantern on the table cast flickering, muted light over her dark form; he figured Hosea or Lenny must have been back at some point to check in on her and left it sitting there. He supposed he could go back to Llamrei real quick and grab his bedroll, but his eyes kept returning longingly to the cot.

As tempting as it was, he shook his head to himself and turned to go back to his horse. Although they had already shared a bedroll once before, it wasn't something he'd ever do in the middle of camp. All it would take would be the others waking up and seeing them harmlessly asleep next to each other for the jokes and jabs and wild teasing to start, and he was pretty sure neither of them needed any of that nonsense.

After making a stop by the fire to say a perfunctory goodnight to those drunken fools that were still awake, he returned to his wagon and tried to be quiet as he rolled his bedding out on the ground. He heard movement from the cot and looked up to see her lifting the brim of the hat up over one squinting eye. "Mr. Morgan?" she whispered.

He lowered his voice to respond as he undid his gun belt and set it on the table. "Yeah, just me. You better lay down like a normal person 'fore your bones stick like that."

"Shit, I don't…you shouldn't…" She huffed out a breath, blinking the heavy sleep from her eyes and brushing the hat off her head. "You _can_ kick me outta your bed, ya know…"

Arthur chuckled softly and waved a hand in her direction as he leaned over and supported himself with the other hand on the table, struggling somewhat to kick his boots off. "No, it's fine. You sleep there tonight. Just promise me you'll actually use the whole damn cot so I don't feel like it's bein' wasted."

She snorted softly through her nose and finally acquiesced, stretching out her tired limbs and yawning. She lay down on her belly and crossed her arms under her head, trying to be careful of her wounded hand. After she was comfortable she turned her head to look over at him as he sat himself down on the bedroll, addressing him rather jokingly. "So where'd you run off to? Rob a bank or somethin'?"

He returned a smug look and nodded, lying down in a supine position with his fingers threaded under the back of his head. "Sure did. Got a pretty good haul, too."

Her eyes widened. _Right, he's actually a bandit_. Her mouth quirked at an angle and she sighed. "Guess it went well enough then, if you ain't been shot dead."

Arthur chuckled. "Hardly. We did have to shoot our way out, but…well, all things considered we made out pretty good."

She was silent for a minute. "Met some folks while you was away. That Sean MacGuire never shuts up, does he?"

Arthur chuckled again and shook his head. "He does not. Sorry you had to put up with his foolishness. You get a chance to meet any of the girls?"

"Yes, Miss Gaskill wants me to tell her _all_ about myself. I guess she wants to write it all down or somethin'? And Miss Jackson was very sweet, asked if I needed anything, said she had some spare dresses I could wear if I needed, which I tried to decline as politely as I could. Met Mrs. Adler and Miss Roberts too, and-" she sucked in a sudden breath, remembering. "You got a goddamn _kid_ in this outlaw gang!?"

Arthur sighed, glancing up towards her out of the corner of his eye. "I think at this point, Arthur's fine, Miss Thorne. And yes, we got a _kid_ in the gang. Jack's grown up with us, he's got more folks here lookin' out for him than…well, more'n any of the rest of us had when we was growin' up."

"Still, you don't think-? I mean, with Pinkertons, and…I dunno, what all else, chasin' after you…?"

Arthur lowered his voice an octave but couldn't help the vehemence in his tone. "Trust me, those thoughts have crossed my mind as of late. But it ain't my business. I been there for Abigail when I could – John ain't exactly been the best father to the boy – but it's their decision to make. Despite outward appearances, John is, well, kinda like a brother to me. Ain't no one here gonna flat out tell that family they need to leave." _Except Hosea, and me if I only had the guts,_ he thought to himself dismally.

Willa blinked and rolled up onto her back at that, staring up at the tarp of Arthur's tent and threading her own fingers across her midsection. "Sorry." She screwed her eyes shut, furrowing her brows. "I'm sorry…I'll be outta your hair tomorrow. Don't need to be gettin' all involved in other folks' business like this…"

Arthur huffed out another sigh, shaking his head. "That ain't what I meant. I guess you got every right to be concerned. Just, John and me, this life is all we know. It's…kind of impossible to picture livin' any other way. And these folks here, it…well it _is_ like a big family. Hard to turn your back on somethin' like that."

Willa chewed her bottom lip, looking down toward her hands. "Guess I can understand that. But it ain't none of my business anyway." Her tone became cool. "I got my own family to be lookin' after…"

"Just…look, you had a rough day. Forget about your brother for a night and try to get some more sleep. I imagine gettin' kidnapped ain't exactly the most relaxin' pastime."

"Pray you never have to find out…"

Arthur made a sound like he was about to speak and then stopped himself. Slowly, she heard another intake of breath. "They didn't…they didn't _do_ anything to-?"

"No." She cut him off before he could finish his tentative question. "No, they didn't. Sure talked enough about it, but you boys..." She paused and let out a short sigh. "You showed up at a real good time."

Arthur nodded his head in the darkness. "Good. Good. Goodnight, Miss Thorne."

There was silence for several seconds before he heard her roll onto her side on the cot above him. "Goodnight, Arthur."


	6. Clemens Point - The Children of God

Before she knew it, it had been two weeks already and Wilhelmina still hadn't quite made it away from Clemens Point. She had ridden out into Rhodes and the surrounding areas just about every other day to try and pick up leads on her brother, but she was becoming more and more convinced he'd made his way into the city. On her off days, she had found herself hunting game for the camp with Charles or Arthur, when he was actually around.

It seemed like every day she'd mention how she was getting ready to leave, and that she'd be out of their hair soon, but then she just sort of never got around to it. Someone always had a story to tell, or a bottle to share and a song to sing, or an errand that needed doing. Hosea loved reminiscing with her about Bessie and her father, and Lenny was certainly thrilled to still have her around.

Charles had been baffled at first, but once he'd found out she was virtually a professional at companionable silences (there's only so much you can say to your horse when you're on your own for so long), she'd been his constant chosen hunting partner. He'd had to teach her how to use a bow, but she'd been a quick study and learned the basics in just a few days.

Folks would sling jokes at her and Sadie in the mornings while they stood next to the cook fire and drank coffee and smoked cigarettes together. They looked like night and day, Sadie with her flaxen hair and bright yellow and white button-down shirts; Wilhelmina with her raven locks and consistently dark-colored flannels and blouses.

Willa had found a fast friend in Sadie, however, after she learned how the woman had been widowed and abused at the hands of the O'Driscolls. A firm slap across the face and then Willa's fiercest hug and gentlest advice involving how she had dealt with her own losses was enough to bring Sadie around from a bad business one night when she'd managed to drink almost a whole bottle of whiskey and just about tried to kill Kieran and then herself.

Willa actually liked Kieran, couldn't really understand why the others in the gang didn't. Just because he used to be an O'Driscoll, she supposed, and it must have been hard to shake the suspicion, especially for Sadie. But he was incredibly awkward with people and incredibly sweet with the horses, and she thought anybody who liked horses as much as he did probably wasn't worth wasting so much hate on.

She never said much to Molly O'Shea or Leopold Strauss, and it seemed they didn't have much to say to her either. After being greeted so warmly by the other girls in camp, Wilhelmina had actually made an earnest effort to introduce herself to Dutch's young paramour, but she was quickly shot down and given an earful about how she should just go back to her decidedly un-ladylike carousing with Sadie and the men. Carefully holding her fists in check, she had stuttered out an apology and quickly turned tail.

Willa had impressed most of the camp immensely one night after her, Sean and Karen had been drinking together for most of that day already. She'd been drunk enough to admit to Javier that she knew how to play a song or two, and after his encouragement had retrieved her father's banjo from Tulip's pack and brought it over to the campfire and sung them the old Appalachian tune, 'Shady Grove.' It was one of the only songs she knew, thanks to her father, but it had gotten some loud whoops from Uncle and Hosea, who remembered Ezra singing it years ago. Even Bill Williamson had smiled and tapped his hand on his knee, which was something.

Arthur and Charles came back from a job that night with a very roughed-up gentleman in tow, one Mr. Josiah Trelawney. The three of them stood in a small circle on the outskirts of the camp for a few minutes after they rode in, discussing what Trelawny knew about the threats of bounty hunters and Pinkertons. Despite the gravity of their conversation, Arthur couldn't help but steal glances at the fire out of the corner of his eye.

Arthur gave Trelawney a rather distracted pat on the shoulder once the conversation was done and mumbled something to him about getting some rest before he turned and ambled towards the campfire. He stood off to the side as Willa finished up the song, smiling at her and tipping his hat when her eyes found his. She had burst out into drunken laughter, grinning and blushing and looking away from him as other folks had started clapping, only to be caught up in a discussion with Uncle of whether or not she'd be willing to participate in a banjo duet.

Arthur found his way over to her after they'd introduced her to a boisterous rendition of 'Ring Dang Do' and she'd left the others to go down onto the dock and smoke a cigarette. Lighting one of his own, he addressed her as he stepped down onto the somewhat rickety old landing behind her. "Well, well, little blackbird, I didn't know you could _sing_!" He'd called her that a few times after that first night he'd found her asleep on his cot, saying she'd looked like 'one 'a those fluffy little baby birds what got knocked out of it's nest.'

"Aw, quit it with that Arthur! It ain't polite to heckle a lady...'sides, I haven't said anything about your sorry attempts at keepin' a tune." He knew she wasn't really mad because she was chuckling through the whole thing.

"Ohh, didn't know I was talkin' to a _lady._ "

She turned to him and smacked his shoulder, pluming smoke from her nostrils out into the warm night air. She couldn't quite hold back the small snort of a laugh that escaped, though. "You're an ass."

Arthur couldn't help chuckling and looking down at the ground, raising his hands in mock defense as his tone took on a more serious note. "I'm just messin' wit' you. I know _I_ ain't very talented, but from what I heard you sounded real good, Miss Thorne. All jokin' aside…it's real nice to see you gettin' on with everybody."

She waved a hand at him, clicking her tongue. "Quit it with the Miss Thorne too, _Jesus_ , were you a preacher before you was an outlaw?" She cackled at that thought and took another drag from her cigarette, pausing for a thought. "I am startin' to see what you mean about them bein' like your family, though."

Arthur hummed, gazing back behind them toward the people still gathered around the campfire. He hooked one of his thumbs into his belt and took a slow drag from his own cigarette, glancing back at her. "Micah ain't given you any grief yet, has he?"

Wilhelmina squinted and was about to open her mouth to respond when an oily voice emerged from the dark of the beach behind them. "As a matter of fact, Morgan, I was just about to try and introduce myself."

Micah Bell drifted over towards them from the darkness, a bottle dangling from his hand and the moon casting an eerie glow off his dirty white hat. "Seems every time I try though, you're hoverin' around like a damn chigger, hoggin' her from the rest of us."

Arthur's eyes narrowed and he maneuvered himself slightly so that he stood between Micah and Wilhelmina, his voice lowering. "Ain't hoverin', _friend_ , just makin' sure the ladies 'round here ain't gettin' any unwanted attention."

Micah sucked in a loud breath through his nose that ended in a few low snickers. "Ain't you just a gentleman? What say you let the lady decide for herself who she wants to spread her legs for?" Micah leered over Arthur's shoulder at her, hissing in another breath. "I could show you how a real man takes care of a woman…"

Arthur was about to haul off and punch Micah right in the nose when he heard the hammer of a gun click right behind his ear. He stopped and glanced back to see Wilhelmina's pistol aimed at Micah's sneering face. "Tell you what, Mr. Bell, I ever need a body to use for target practice, I'll come find you. I ain't gonna be your goddamn camp whore, you understand?"

Micah's hands went up in a mock show of surrender, and she almost wanted to shoot him anyway when she saw his mouth quirking to try and hide a broad smirk underneath that ugly blonde mustache. He made a show of bowing low in pretend deference and then turned to amble away, snickering to himself again and twirling the bottle in his hand. "Whatever you say, little birdie. Whatever you say…"

Willa flicked her cigarette after him angrily, then slowly lowered the gun and pushed the hammer back. "You really weren't jokin' about him."

Arthur shook his head, tossing his own cigarette into the water. "No. I know you can handle yourself just fine, but…try to stay away from that snake?"

Willa nodded, eyes still following Micah's retreating silhouette. "See _that's_ what I expected everybody in this gang to be like!" Her eyes darted back to Arthur as she jammed her pistol back into its holster. "Like Everett, like that piece of shit back there! Lyin', rapin', pillagin' fuckin' monsters that play with your head and tell you sweet things to your face while they're stabbin' you in the goddamn back!"

Arthur reached out a hand to steady her, holding her by her elbow and trying to lead her back toward the warm glow of the fire. "Yeah, I know. And most other gangs _are_ like that. You'd do best not to forget it. But you can trust me." He nodded his head in the direction of the fire briefly. "Hell, you can trust most any one of them aside from Micah."

Willa stopped before she'd even taken a few steps. She felt a sudden swelling in her chest at his words, spoken so nonchalantly. She hung back and looked drunkenly down at the ground for a few seconds, trying to refocus her suddenly misty vision. Arthur blinked and turned back to see why she'd stopped, raising an eyebrow questioningly.

"You…you mean that?" Her gaze finally rose to meet his, and he felt like he could see a heavy weight behind it.

"Sure. I…well, I can't speak for everybody, 'cept maybe Hosea of course, but…" He paused briefly, his tone garnering a bit more confidence. "But I wouldn't say it if I didn't think it were true."

She pursed her lips and looked at him hard for a few moments before suddenly lunging forward and clasping her arms around his midsection tightly. She turned her head so her ear was pressed against his broad chest. "Thank you, Arthur…"

Arthur cleared his throat, looking around uncomfortably for a moment. Slowly, he gave in and curled his arms around Willa's shoulders. He responded in an almost whisper, tilting his head down toward hers. "Look, I… _we_ do bad things, and I know this ain't much of a place to find yourself in, and I am surely sorry you ain't got somebody better'n me, but…well…however long you decide to stick around, I _will_ look after you, I promise you that. Ain't nobody should be so alone in this world…"

Wilhelmina had to bite the inside of her lips to stop a sob escaping. She stayed silent, but kept her arms firmly locked around him. After a minute she inhaled a large, shaky breath before finally peeling herself away and clasping him at arm's length. "You goddamn fool." Her voice cracked and she cleared her throat, looking down briefly. "In twelve years, I ain't never had anybody say anything like-" She paused and shook her head, starting over. "I mean, I ain't even _spent_ enough time with anybody to-" She shook her head again, mumbling frustrated curses. Finally she looked up. "You actually gonna stand there and look me in the eyes and tell me I deserve _someone better_ lookin' after me?"

Arthur pursed his lips, his brows drawing down at her frustrated attempt to express her feelings. He very badly wanted to reach up and scratch the back of his neck, as was his nervous habit, but he couldn't with her grasping his arms so tightly. "Well, I mean-"

"You don't mean _shit_ , Arthur Morgan. You're one of the kindest men I ever met in my goddamn life and you talk about yourself like you're the scum of the earth. Like you're dirt on my goddamn boot heels! Who _apologizes_ for _helpin'_ somebody?!" She let him go so she could flail her arms to emphasize her point.

Arthur felt his feathers ruffling. He didn't like people chipping away at his carefully molded shield of self-loathing. It was his, and he had earned it, and it had kept him relatively safe all these years. Alone and miserable, but safe. In a way. Charles was the only other person in recent history to have called him out like this, and it caused his defenses to reflexively kick in again, just like when he had wanted to leave that German family at Dewberry Creek.

His bulk practically loomed over her as his hand shot out and snatched her wrist in the darkness. His eyes seemed to eclipse with some black emotion and his voice emerged in a low, slow rumble as he leaned in towards her. "Well, I'm sorry, _princess_. What you want me to do, then? Be a _proper_ bandit? Beat you up, brutalize you, leave you to _die_ on some godforsaken patch of dirt somewhere, with nothin' but the wolves and cougars to mourn for you?"

Her mouth fell open at his sudden, drastic change in demeanor. She felt a sudden slab of heat pooling in her chest and low in her belly and her mind was having trouble determining if she was scared, or…something else. It conjured up memories of her and Loretta's teenage years, helplessly at the whim of their brother's greed and vice, nothing more than playthings for his lecherous and abusive friends.

But this was not one of Everett's brutish cronies; this was the man who had saved her life multiple times now, and treated her with such unprovoked goddamn _tenderness_ , and she somehow _knew_ deep down inside that he would never do any of those things to her. Her mouth snapped shut for a few seconds and then hinged open again.

As the initial shock of paralysis passed, it was replaced by something akin to a fatalistic confidence. She was suddenly sure that this was the Arthur most people were supposed to see; the strong right arm of a fearsome gang leader, capable of snuffing out a life with his bare hands without a hint of remorse. Needless to say, Wilhelmina was a fair bit sobered up at this point.

She firmly yanked her hand out of his grasp and settled it over the holster on her hip, taking a step back from him. "I don't want you to be nothin' other than who you are, Arthur Morgan. You done me kindness after kindness. And no matter what you say, _that_ was your first instinct over takin' me in to have me hanged, or lettin' scum like Micah Bell belittle me, and do God knows what else. So go ahead, get yourself all riled up if it makes you feel better. But if you're lookin' for somebody who's gonna justify all them nasty things you say about yourself…well, it ain't me."

With that, Willa turned on her heel and walked away, leaving Arthur alone at the end of the small dock. His fists clenched and unclenched at his sides as he tried to process everything that had just happened. How in the hell had it gone from some lighthearted banter about her singing a pretty song to… _that?_ He swore to himself and kicked the piling wedged into the ground at the corner of the dock. He knew the answer to that, stupid to even wonder how it had happened. Stupid to assume he'd ever give himself a chance at letting someone in.

"Everything alright?"

Arthur looked up, startled at the sudden intrusion. "Charles? How long-?"

"Not long. Just out for a walk and happened to hear Willa. She's…not very quiet when she's drunk." Charles ambled a bit closer from where he had appeared on the small grassy outcrop at the edge of the camp. He put his hands up, trying to placate any suspicion Arthur might've had that he'd been eavesdropping.

Arthur's shoulders sagged as he nodded in agreement. "No, she ain't. And goddamn odd-tempered too." He plucked his hat off his head and ran his other hand through his hair in frustration.

Charles laughed softly and shook his head. "So are you, Arthur."

Arthur eyed the man smugly, making his way up the beach. "Well, _I_ got good reason to be. Girl's puttin' me up on a goddamn pedestal. She knows next to nothin' about me!"

Charles exhaled a heavy breath from his nose and looked up towards the stars that seemed to hang heavy over the lake, crossing his arms over his chest. "I'm starting to think she knows you better than you know yourself. Anyway, she's just grateful. You saved her life, Arthur."

"Yeah well, so did you. So did Lenny! Why the hell ain't she out here pickin' fights wit' one of you?"

Charles shrugged his shoulders, finally looking down from the stars to fix his gaze on Arthur. "She's told me a bit about herself when we've gone out hunting. She's been alone for a long time. I know what that's like. To suddenly have a sense of camaraderie with someone, with _anyone_ , it's…it can be overwhelming. I don't think she's trying to pick fights with you, Arthur. Or put you on a pedestal. I think she's trying to figure out how to have a friend. How to _be_ a friend. You just happen to be the person she's trying with."

Arthur chewed on all of that for a minute. He let out a heavy sigh and reached up to rub the stubble on one of his cheeks, his fingers drifting down after a few moments to scratch at his chin. "Maybe you're right. I don't know. Hell, Charles, I ain't ever been one 'a those introspective thinkers."

A soft, sly smile spread across Charles' face and he reached forward to briefly lay a hand on Arthur's shoulder before walking past him to continue his solitary stroll along the beach. "Keep telling yourself that, brother."

* * *

The van der Linde gang had been playing devil's advocate with two of Rhodes' oldest and bitterest families for weeks now, hustling moonshine and setting crops on fire in the middle of the night, just to name a few of their notable acts. Dutch and Hosea seemed to be sure there was a pile of gold waiting at the end of it if one of the families would just break first and start an all-out war with the other.

But three days ago – the morning after Willa and Arthur had their little spat - Arthur, Micah and Dutch had ridden off in another direction to have some sort of a parley with Colm O'Driscoll himself; yet another needling threat they always had to keep one step ahead of. It seemed like Dutch had a knack for accumulating enemies, and Willa was not quite sure what to make of the gang's unceasing loyalty to the man.

She had gleaned from both Arthur and Lenny that Dutch had a propensity for taking in the abandoned and outcast, sharing with them his worldview and his utopian ideals for an America that was truly a 'land of the free.' He and Hosea had offered most of these people some kind of a family and some kind of stability when they had had nothing before. And whatever Dutch's intentions were with Colm O'Driscoll, they followed along with his decision unquestioningly. All except Arthur and Hosea, who had both professed their assurance that this 'peace talk' was nothing more than a trap.

She had heard and experienced enough about the O'Driscolls to have a fair idea that Arthur was right to be nervous about the whole thing, but to everyone else it had been a fairly normal day. All three had ridden off around 11 that morning, and all three would surely return that night, or maybe even the next day, hopefully with the decades-long squabble finally put to rest for good, or at the very least with Colm dead.

Except only Dutch and Micah had returned that evening, exchanging heated words and storming through the camp and into the privacy of Dutch's tent. He'd thrown down the canvas flaps and thrown Molly out too, for good measure, before they continued on in feverish whispers for at least an hour.

Willa saw Hosea go into Dutch's tent at one point, keeping an eye on the happenings as she sat at the edge of camp oiling Tulip's saddle. She heard him throwing around a few half-muffled curses and mutterings at Dutch and Micah before he stormed out, obviously exasperated.

She had made her way over to Hosea not long after, tentatively asking after Arthur. She was unnerved about the way their conversation had ended the night before, and it was nagging at her that Arthur might actually be mad. She'd never expected him to react so strongly to being told, in no uncertain terms, to stop badmouthing himself; had no idea it would be such a pressure point.

Hosea had looked up at her, a sour frown etched onto his face, and told her he didn't know where Arthur was. Dutch had said the parley had been a complete bust; was convinced Colm had called him there just to poke at a few open wounds and make some overt jabs at his pride and his honor before begging off back to whatever shithole he'd crawled out of, with nary a word spoken of any actual peace to be had between them.

Arthur was supposed to have been their lookout and sniper if need be, said he'd meet back up with them at a designated spot once all was said and done but he'd never showed. Dutch suspected Arthur had taken off on his own after the meeting to both sulk and gloat about how he'd been at least partially right about the whole situation, and would most likely meander back to camp in the next day or two.

So the next morning, Willa had carefully traced a copy of the southeastern portion of the map of the country that hung up on the side of Arthur's wagon, packed up Tulip's saddlebags and made her first trip into St. Denis. Annoyingly Arthur was still in the back of her mind, but she pushed the meddlesome thoughts away as she made her way into the city. She had donned a long skirt and a blouse for the occasion, as wandering around in cities dressed like a man tended to make her stick out worse than a sore thumb.

And so she'd played tourist for two days, taking in the sights and sounds and keeping an ear to the ground for anyone in the market or in the Bastille Saloon who might happen to mention the name Everett Thorne. She bought a newspaper on her first day in the city, glancing through articles about orphan trains from back east making stops in St. Denis on their way further west and mysterious murders happening in the heart of the city that were spreading currents of fear through wild rumors of victims being drained entirely of blood.

She hadn't seen anything exactly relevant in the papers, and figured she should probably make her way back to Clemens Point after spending the next day familiarizing herself with the city. She stopped into the tailor's briefly to buy Arthur a new bandana – she'd ruined his with her blood the day him and Lenny had brought her back from Shady Belle – before making the long trek back to the gang's camp.

As Tulip ambled down the dark path that led into Clemens Point much later that night, Willa was struck at how quiet it was. She immediately felt a sick sinking feeling in her stomach as John Marston hurried up from his guard post at a fork in the path to meet her, beckoning to her in a raspy half-whisper.

"Willa! Where the hell have you been?"

She pulled up on Tulip's reigns, causing the mare to buck her head slightly and stomp a hoof or two in protest as John cut across her intended path. Willa reached down with one hand and patted the horse's neck, shooting John a nervous, questioning scowl. "St. Denis. What the hell is it to you?"

John squinted his eyes at her suspiciously for a moment, hands clutching his rifle close to his chest. "Arthur came back earlier tonight. Those _Fuckin' O'Driscolls_ got him the other day. He…he's in a pretty bad way."

Willa hissed in a breath, the corners of her mouth curling down in a grimace. " _What?_ What are you talkin' about?"

John glanced around, still nervous the O'Driscolls might show up there at Clemens Point at any second to gun the rest of them down. Satisfied for the moment, his gaze turned back up to her. "I still don't know what happened. How they knew where he was…but they worked him over pretty good. Grimshaw's with him now, but…well, you should just get over there, I guess."

Willa rolled her shoulders and sat up straight, scowling down her nose at him for a second before clicking her tongue and urging Tulip to continue on. She dismounted at the northern edge of the camp where a few of the other horses were grazing on bales of hay, fumbling to unclip her bedroll and yanking her tent canvas out of the saddlebags with trembling hands.

She caught Llamrei approaching out of the corner of her eye and jammed her things in under the crook of one arm to reach out and rub a hand down the other mare's muzzle. "You got him back here, didn't you girl?" Llamrei pushed her nose into Willa's palm, nickering softly and looking at her with those big eyes. Willa clenched her jaw, mouth curling down again as she planted a quick kiss on the horse's mottled brown and black nose before striding past her and heading straight for Arthur's tent.

Everything else was quiet as Willa came up beside Susan Grimshaw, who was seated in a chair next to Arthur's bed. Her eyes immediately found him and she sucked in a harsh breath as she took in the bandages wound thickly across his left shoulder. He was glistening with sweat and feverish looking and his breath sounded ragged and labored, but he appeared to be asleep. She dropped her things on the ground in a pile and glanced back to the older woman, voice nothing more than a whisper. "Miss Grimshaw…?"

Susan turned her head to look up at Wilhelmina. "Was wondering when you'd strut back in, missy." She planted her hands on her thighs and stood, letting out a small groan. Moving aside, she pointed at a bucket of water with a folded rag draped over the edge that sat on the ground next to Arthur's cot. "He's feverish. I've done first watch, now that you're here you can take second."

Finding herself at a lack for words, Willa simply nodded and dropped down into the chair, folding her hands between her thighs and looking back down at Arthur's still form. "What happened…?"

"Colm O'Driscoll and his bastards happened. Shot him, beat him. Not sure how he got away, but somehow he made it home. Now we get to try to keep him alive."

Willa swallowed a heavy lump in her throat and let her head drop. "Right. Of course. Get some sleep, Miss Grimshaw. I'll look after him." She finally looked back up and forced a flimsy smile.

Susan sighed, putting a hand on Willa's shoulder. She gave one gentle pat before muttering a goodnight and heading off toward her own tent. Left alone, Willa heaved out a breath she didn't know she'd been holding. She licked her dry lips, reaching down for the rag, dunking it into the cool water and carefully wringing it out. She scooted the chair right up close to Arthur's side and gingerly laid the cloth across his forehead, wincing back as she heard a particularly rough wheeze escape his lungs.

She felt her breath catch in her own throat and had to bite back a sob. A hand flew up to cover her mouth and she sunk back into the chair, unable to tear her eyes away from the broken visage of the first man who had brought her any kind of reassurance or happiness since her father had still been alive.

Wilhelmina thought she'd been hardened by years of solitude; convinced herself that her sole purpose in this life was revenge. Hell, she'd been so focused on that one thing that she'd forsaken any and all attempts at what most people would consider a normal life with normal relationships. No…she'd kill Everett, and he'd most likely kill her too, and their whole family would be gone and the world would probably be the better for it.

She was of no use to anyone anyway, not really. Sure, she could take care of a homestead and her daddy (and Bessie, during secret lessons when she'd been about 12) had taught her something pretty with shotguns and pistols, but she couldn't give any man a family; and who would want someone so broken anyway?

She'd sold her father's land when she'd finally decided to leave Pennsylvania in search of her brother, so all the money she had was solely due to that and whatever she robbed from the members of Everett's gang she managed to pick off. She had no practical work experience that anyone would offer to a woman; she sure as hell wasn't going back to whoring, and other than maybe bounty hunting she had no way to make a real living.

And then Charles Smith had showed up. And Charles had brought her to Arthur, and Arthur had led her to Lenny, and so on and so forth until here she sat. With friends. Real _friends_. This odd family of Arthur's obviously meant more than the world to him, and she had truly begun to see why. With the exception of a few, these people held each other up and cared for each other in a way she had never seen before. At first, she had been terrified. But then, like some poor mutt who finally gets shown the least bit of affection from a human hand, she had come around and opened up and _laughed_ and learned these people's stories and learned that hers was not the only tragedy.

She sat and cried quietly as she kept watch over Arthur into and through the small hours of the night. She hated crying, and hadn't done it nearly so much in years as she had in the last two months since she'd met him. Probably because actually having someone to talk to had dredged up so many of the memories she'd tried to bury. And this was a potential new memory to toss onto the pile; sitting and weeping over the deathbed of her first true friend since her sister and bitterly regretting for the second time being too goddamned stupid to have helped prevent it.

His labored groans startled her out of a half doze just as the pinkish glow of sunrise was starting to peek up over the horizon. She jolted up in the chair, eyes immediately finding him as he made a weak attempt to sit himself up, one large hand reaching up to gingerly touch at his shoulder. "Hey, hey…" She stood and leaned forward, trying to gently press him back down onto his pillow.

His eyes flickered up to her with dim recognition, and the dark circles underneath them stood stark against the pallid color of the rest of his skin, especially in the flickering light of the lantern on the table. At least he didn't look flushed anymore, maybe that meant the fever had finally broken. He grunted and finally resigned himself to dropping back against the pillow, furrowing his brows in pain and closing his eyes again for a few moments. "Ohh…everything _hurts_. Guess that means I'm still alive…"

"Yeah…and you'd better stay that way, you hear me?" She reached over and grabbed his canteen from the table, twisting off the top and holding it out to him. He reached up with his good right arm and took it, drinking about three-quarters of the whole container in one go. After a minute he handed it back to her, sucking in a deep breath and wincing again.

"Was Dutch…was he gonna come for me?"

Willa blinked in surprise. She wasn't expecting that to be the first question she heard, but then again she didn't know what she'd expected. She wasn't sure she'd even expected him to wake up at all. "I…I don't know. I left for a few days after you boys went to your peace talk. Didn't get back 'til last night. I don't think he even knew you was in trouble…"

Arthur grimaced, turning his head away from her and reaching up to wearily rub a hand down his face in frustration. "Whole goddamn thing was a setup…Colm never wanted peace. Wanted to use me as bait to lure Dutch in and serve all of us up to the law in one nice pretty little package…"

Willa swallowed heavily and reached out to plant her hand on his arm. His union suit had been unbuttoned and that whole side had been peeled down away from his arm and his shoulder, so it lay bunched down around his midsection. His skin felt clammy, but not too warm and her fingers squeezed almost desperately. "Well he didn't get the chance, did he? You kept your people safe. You did real good, Arthur…"

He exhaled a heavy sigh through his nose, eyes closing as another grimace of pain overcame his features. "I suppose…sure as hell don't feel too good."

A watery laugh escaped her, and he couldn't help but turn his head back at the sound. She sniffled a little bit, looking down and away. He suddenly became aware of the fact that, though her grip on his arm had softened, her hand lingered there. He blinked and then rolled his eyes up, reaching up to rub his face again awkwardly. "Aw hell, Wilhelmina, I ain't worth your tears, woman-"

"Would ya shut up?" She cut him off in a low but firm voice. "Shut up and just let me have this? _Please_? When I got back last night and saw you, I didn't think you'd be wakin' up. D-Dutch and _Micah_ … _they_ should be _ashamed_ 'a their goddamn selves. What I said the other night still stands and I just wanna be happy for a goddamn second that my _friend_ isn't dead."

His jaw worked for a few moments like he wanted to say something, but he just sighed and shook his head slowly.

"Get some more rest, Arthur. I'll be here until someone comes to kick me out." She leaned back in the chair and reached down into her satchel to pull out her pouch of tobacco. They stayed in silence for a while until Arthur finally drifted off again and morning was fully upon them, burning off the haze of fog that had settled in late in the night.

Hosea wandered over not long after, holding two cups of coffee in his hands. He stopped beside Willa's shoulder and offered her one of them, which she gratefully accepted. She held it between both hands and blew across the top of it, watching the steam move with her breath.

"How is he?"

She sighed raggedly over the mouth of the cup, glancing up at him. "Ornery. But alive." She was silent for a few moments while she took a small sip of coffee. "Said Colm O'Driscoll wanted to use him as bait to set the law on all of you."

It was Hosea's turn to sigh, closing his eyes and bowing his head to pinch at the bridge of his nose with his fingers. "What a goddamn mess…"

Willa's brows drew down and she chewed on her lip thoughtfully. "He's lucky he ain't dead."

"We all are. But he's a fighter, this one. Always has been. Don't know if we'd have made it as far as we have without him." He smirked. "The unruly son." Hosea looked down at the man on the bed with a clear fondness in his eyes, pushing his frustration with Dutch away for the moment.

She took another longer sip of the coffee now that it had cooled down just a bit. "What are you gonna do now? Surely this must change some things?"

"Well, Colm doesn't know where this camp is, and hopefully neither does anyone else, for now. But we'll have to keep moving soon. After we finish with the Grays and the Braithwaites, hopefully with some Confederate gold in tow, the way I understand it is we'll be leaving the country. For good."

"Just like that?"

Hosea shrugged, clearing his throat and coughing into his arm. A small fit overtook him and it was almost a full minute before he managed to stop coughing. "Nothing ever seems to happen 'just like that' these days. Like I said, we've made a mess of things. The best we can hope for is to keep ahead of the law just long enough to disappear." His eyes slid down to her as he reached out to rest a hand on her shoulder. "And so should you, my dear. You shouldn't get caught up in this with us."

She blinked and looked up at him. "Hosea-"

"No. No buts. The other girls, John and Abigail…they all need to start thinkin' about what's going to come of all this. Now I know you and Arthur have taken a shine to each other, and believe me, it makes this old black heart happy to see it, but…" he sighed, reaching up to scratch at the back of his neck, wanting to put what he said next delicately. "But he's one of the old guard, and we may have raised him a little _too_ well. He won't be backing away from this thing until it's done. Whatever 'done' means, I guess we'll have to wait and see…"

She was silent, mulling over the old man's words. "I like _most_ of these people, Hosea. That's not…that ain't somethin' I'm exactly used to. Finding Everett, it's all I've really thought about up 'til now. Then Arthur and Lenny had to go and bring me here, and now all of a sudden I _am_ gettin' caught up in it. I care about Arthur. He's my friend. And no offense, but I was just about ready to kill him myself when the first thing he asked me was if _Dutch_ was plannin' on comin' for him. I think he'd have rather died out there than let that man get caught comin' to rescue him. He thinks that little of himself…"

"The boy likes to play dumb. I know I rib him about it, but…I think he's having a very difficult time right now trying to figure out if his loyalty outweighs his ability to make some decisions for himself. Dutch has molded him into somethin'…somethin' I don't think he necessarily likes when he thinks about it too much. But Arthur's loyalty is a force to be reckoned with. He _would_ die for Dutch, yes. But he'd also die for just about any one of us."

Willa saw Abigail and her son Jack approaching Arthur's tent before she got a chance to say any more to Hosea. She gave Abigail a weary smile in greeting and gave Jack a little wave. She didn't have much experience with children, but he had captured her heart with his sweetness and sensitivity. He was clutching something in front of him that dangled from his hands, walking right in front of Abigail while she had her arm over his shoulder, palm pressed over his heart, both protecting and encouraging.

Hosea smiled. "Well hello, folks. What brings you 'round?"

Abigail leaned down to Jack and whispered in his ear, her hand sliding up and over his shoulder to pat at his back and send him forward towards them. Jack toddled closer. "Um…Uncle Hosea, Miss Mina? Is Uncle Arthur gonna be okay?"

Willa couldn't help but wince at the use of the name 'Mina.' Only Everett had ever called her that particular pet name, and though she loathed it a great deal she simply didn't have the heart to ask Jack to stop using it. With him, it almost seemed to become something different. Almost. She cleared her throat and gave him another smile. "I think so, Jack. He's sleepin' right now, but he was wide awake and talkin' my ear off earlier this mornin'."

She gave Abigail a nod of understanding as a wave of relief washed over the younger woman's face. Jack took a few more steps towards her and Hosea, a grin spreading across his little round cheeks. He held out his hands to display the necklace of flowers he'd made, a chain of beautiful purple and violet hummingbird sage blooms. "I made this for him."

Hosea's face brightened in a grin as he placed a hand on the young boy's shoulder. "Well, that's just fine, Jack! Real fine!"

Willa's smile widened as well as she gently reached out and took the necklace of flowers from Jack's small hands. "It's beautiful, Jack. I'm gonna make sure it's the first thing he sees when he wakes up again." She turned in the chair and hung it off the corner of Arthur's table, then turned back to face the boy again. "That was real sweet of you."

Abigail came back up behind Jack, planting her palm on top of his head. "We both wanted to come see how he was doin'."

Hosea took Willa's empty coffee cup and nodded to Abigail and Jack as he turned to them. "I think he'll pull through just fine. C'mon, let's go do some reading, huh Jack? Give Uncle Arthur a bit more time to rest. What do ya say?"

A look of annoyance made Jack's face scrunch up as he shrugged his shoulders, glancing up at his mother before looking back at Hosea. "I guess so, Uncle Hosea."

Abigail rolled her eyes and ruffled the boy's hair, gently turning him away from Arthur's tent. "Well I think that's a great idea."

Hosea laughed and glanced back at Willa before following the two of them off. "Think about what I said, my dear."


	7. Clemens Point - So Shines a Good Deed

The next few weeks seemed to go by slowly. Arthur was mostly bedridden for the first seven or eight days, so Willa often sat with him when she wasn't out hunting, smoking cigarettes and idly plucking at chords on the banjo or playing dominoes with him. She didn't tell him she'd halted any reconnaissance she could have been doing on her brother because she would have had to ride off to St. Denis for at least a few days at a time to do so; truth be told, she didn't want to leave Arthur for that long while he was wounded so badly. She knew it was stupid, knew he had at least a few good people in that camp looking after him, but something just tugged at her to stay close by.

He'd seemed to improve a little bit every day, and sometimes when Willa walked over to the tent with a bowl of stew or a freshly filled canteen he'd be leaning back against his wagon, doodling in that leather journal of his with one leg curled up toward his chest and the other dangling off the side of the cot. He'd even asked, very awkwardly, if she minded if he sketched her while she sat with him. This of course led to Willa asking if she could see some of his drawings, to which he'd sheepishly scratched the back of his head and told her they really weren't worth looking at. Somehow she doubted that, but she decided not to push it.

The other girls all came by when they weren't busy with chores; Mary-Beth would read to Arthur some of the stories she'd been trying to write and asking for his opinions on things, and Karen would regale him with stories of the dumb things Bill and Sean and Lenny had been up to trying to pick up the slack for Arthur's absence. Tilly was the best for keeping him company with companionable silence while she worked at her darning, something he was more appreciative of than she probably knew. she would often quietly hum to herself while she sat with him, and he never said it out loud but he found it to be oddly comforting.

After a few days he'd graduated back to slowly putting on pants and shirts, but it still hurt him too much to get up and actually try to do any physical activity. He'd settled for trying to roll and flex his shoulder as often as he could while folks were visiting with him, despite the awkwardness of the bandages and the almost overwhelming amount of pain it gave him at first.

He'd had Willa tack Jack's flower necklace up on the side of his wagon next to his lucky horseshoe, but once that first week had gone by the flowers had lost their vibrant color and begun to fall apart. Jack had been vehement about making Arthur a new one, but he'd gotten completely distracted by the arrival of a stray dog in camp. Dutch ended up naming the dog Cain, and fickle as the whims of children are, Jack became practically inseparable from him, flower chains all but forgotten.

By that point Arthur was going stir crazy anyway. He'd been attempting to spend less and less time around his tent, taking Llamrei out for short rides to expend some of both their energy, and trying to do small tasks like carrying pails of wash water and brushing and feeding some of the other horses. He'd been trying to keep an eye on the happenings with the Grays and the Braithwaites as well, but it felt like the big jobs had come to a grinding halt without his presence as one of the gang's outriders.

One humid day about three weeks after Arthur had escaped the O'Driscolls, he and Willa were fishing off the shoreline a few hundred feet from the camp. He was glad to find the range of motion required to cast out a line had almost completely returned to him, and he celebrated the fact by raising a bottle of beer to his lips. They'd found that suspending them in the water kept the bottles somewhat cool against the particular heat of the Lemoyne air, and so it had become quite a tolerable afternoon.

Wilhelmina had her boots off and her pants rolled up, standing calf deep in the surprisingly clear water of the lake. She was about to lift her own beer to take a sip when she felt a sharp tug on her line. "Oh!" She fumbled the bottle, dropping it and managing to pin it between her chest and her elbow as she tried her best to keep holding onto the pole and to reel in the line at the same time. "Shit! Arthur come save my beer!"

Arthur barked out a laugh. He had just finished reeling his own line in, so he set his pole down on the ground and took his time ambling over, stopping to bend down and roll his own pant legs up before going into the water to help her. He wouldn't say it, but he kind of wanted to see what would happen. She cursed again as she wiggled her shoulders, first left and then slightly to the right, trying her best to find a better angle with which to keep the bottle locked in place.

Arthur couldn't help but shiver slightly at the touch of the water on his feet. He huffed out a breath and waded over to her. "Sure you don't just wanna give me the pole?" He couldn't quite keep the laughter out of his voice.

She shot him a smug glare before pursing her bottom lip up and trying to blow a wispy strand of ebony hair out of her eye. "No! I ain't caught nothin' all mornin'!" She tried to use her entire body to jerk the rod back, still reeling, but the pad of her foot went down upon a rock as she took a step backwards. She yelped and immediately released the bottle.

Arthur was quick though – since he'd already started to reach out to take it from her anyway – and he was able to swipe the bottle up in his hand before it plunked down into the water. Willa gnashed her teeth and slung out a few ' _sons 'a bitches'_ and ' _Jesus Christs_ ' before steadying herself, digging her sore heel down into the sand and trying to wrap up the fight with this fish.

Arthur really didn't try very hard to keep a shit-eating smirk from crossing his face when he finally saw the beast she'd been struggling with. When she finally had it close enough she reached down and grabbed the line with her hand, yanking the thing up out of the water. It was just about the cutest little steelhead Arthur had ever seen. "Would'ja look at that? That's a fine meal for a little blackbird!" He chuckled heartily, quite pleased with himself.

Willa huffed out a disgruntled sigh, unhooking the puny fish and tossing it back into the water. She grimaced and plucked her beer out of his hand. "Goddamnit, it ain't fair! I swear I never caught a normal sized fish in my life…"

"Oy! Lovebirds! Mind if I 'elp myself to one o' t'ose beers?"

They both looked back at the shore to see Sean MacGuire, already with a beer in his hand and already popping the seal on it. Arthur sighed, reaching up to scratch his chin and replying in the most ironic tone he could muster, "guess not, Sean!"

Willa snorted as she turned and made her way back to the beach, sucking down the rest of the beer in the bottle and tossing it into their pile of empties before going to work breaking down her pole. Arthur followed up close behind her, pulling out a cigarette and lighting it. He waved out the match and tossed it behind him into the water in one slick motion, sighing and tilting his head to look at the young Irishman. "What you want, Sean? Karen ain't payin' you enough attention?"

Sean grunted, flicking Arthur a sassy nod. "She never does, English. Looves to make me chase 'er, t'at one does." He waved a hand nonchalantly. "No, t'at ain't it, though. Wanted to chat with yas, 'bout t'ose two old inbred families."

Arthur sighed, shaking his head and looking away over the water. He took a drag from his cigarette, squinting and pluming the smoke from his nostrils. "Ya know I don't like any of this? I know Hosea's behind it, but…I think the only thing them two families got in their closets is skeletons. Sure as shit ain't gonna be no Confederate gold…"

"Aye, but what if t'ere _is_ , eh? Ain't it worth pokin' about some more? Word is, Bill's got somethin' lined up with t'ose Grays, the ones we took the piss out of, burnin' their fields! T'ink he's been stallin' 'til you're back on your feet though, big man."

Willa chewed her lip, returning to the water to pull another bottle of beer out of the submerged case. They hadn't exactly been secretive about their operations with her, but she still got the impression that Dutch was not fond of how much she actually overheard about their schemes, what with her being an outsider and remaining fairly unconcerned with his authority. "You don't think you boys are pushin' your luck with those yokels?"

Sean gave her a smug smirk, holding his hands out. "Ah love, it ain't livin' if we ain't pushin' our luck is it? I've got to be of a mind wit' Dutch and Hosea on this one though, I t'ink we can pull the wool over their eyes right proper."

Arthur drained the rest of his beer and tossed the empty bottle over towards the pile. He rolled his shoulder this way and that as his gaze came back to Sean. "We'll see. Who else is workin' it?"

"Everyone's favorite oily turd has shown some interest. Javier and Leonard and Charles, well, you know, t'ey ain't exactly too comfortable goin' for walkabouts in t'ese parts."

Arthur rolled his eyes and heaved out another sigh. He understood why the other three weren't keen on being involved in anything conspicuous here in the south. Goddamn civilization didn't seem very civilized, for all its so-called advancements. But, that meant the only other available gunman was Micah.

He took one more drag from his cigarette before tossing it off into the sand. "Goddamn Micah…" He shook his head, mumbling and planting his hands on his hips and looking out across the water again briefly before turning back toward Sean, giving him a pointed stare. "We'll see. Alright?"

Shaun gave Arthur a rough clap on his good shoulder, showing him a sly grin. "I told ya don't play coy wit' me! I know ya won't pass up a chance to ride wit' ole Sean MacGuire!" The redhead turned to Willa next, sauntering up close to her. "And _you_ , love, when are you gonna get out there on a job wit' us, eh?"

Willa scoffed, splaying a hand on his chest and pushing him away with it. "Never, Sean. I got enough of my own troubles without havin' to help you fools cause more. And if Dutch van der Linde has a problem with it, he can ask me, _nicely,_ to leave."

"Ooh, you'll join in the fun yet," Sean nodded knowingly as he turned away from them, waggling a finger in the air. He raised the bottle he'd commandeered off them and chugged just about the whole thing before tossing it into their pile of empties. He belched loudly as he left the two of them standing on the beach.

Willa snorted and shook her head as she watched his receding back for a few moments. "Idiot…" She lifted her own beer and took a long drink from it, trying to savor the peaceful silence Sean left in his wake.

She swallowed and coughed suddenly, accidentally inhaling some. "Wait a minute. Why'd he say _lovebirds_?" The continued silence puzzled her, and she turned around to look for Arthur after failing to receive some smug response from him.

He'd silently moved off by the edge of the water, arms folded across his chest. He had a tense set to his shoulders; she could see it all the way back where she was standing. Willa frowned and pursed her lips, wandering closer a little awkwardly. "Ya know, for an outlaw you don't seem too excited about doin', well, outlaw things."

"Funny ain't it? I just wish I believed those families was as backwater as the others think they are. Hell, that dumb bastard Sheriff Gray even _deputized_ us, but…I can't help thinkin' they must've caught onto us by now. Ain't no coincidence a bunch of strangers show up in town and all hell starts breakin' loose."

Willa folded her own arms, standing next to him and nesting her beer against her shoulder. "If that's what your gut's tellin' you, then don't ignore it Arthur. If the rest of 'em won't listen, then…well, wait a minute." She turned to look at him, the afternoon sunlight catching in her hair and highlighting the soft strands of brown that threaded in between the thick ebony. Arthur raised an eyebrow, turning to look down at her.

"What if I ride into Rhodes tonight? Don't tell the others, just let me go and see if I can do some snoopin' around. Get Bill to hold off on that job for another day or two. Maybe I'll hear somethin' that'll help."

Arthur narrowed his eyes at her. "Now, you don't need to be gettin' involved in this-"

"Oh shut up, Arthur. _You_ told me I need to repay you boys for savin' my life, right? Nobody in that town knows who I am, and if they even remember me, they think I'm just some poor lady searchin' for her long-lost brother. I'll just stake out the saloon for a bit, see if I can catch some drunken idiot runnin' his mouth…"

"The only thing you're gonna catch in the Parlour House is another goddamn kidnappin'! Those Raiders own that place! C'mon…"

Willa furrowed her brow. "Well…then, I'll just put the wig on. Gussy up in a skirt." She tried to give her voice a southern twang something akin to Arthur's drawl. "Make mahself look like a respectable Parluh House lady."

Arthur rolled his eyes, reaching up to run a hand down his face. "I'm goin' wit' you."

"Well that kinda ruins it." She gave him a pointed look over the bottle as she drank the last of her beer.

"I'll plant myself outside, somewhere inconspicuous. You ain't gettin' into trouble on account of any of us, I won't let ya."

Willa huffed out a sigh, throwing up her hands. "Fine. Everything I need's already in the saddlebags, so let's ride." She turned away from him, tossing her last beer into the pile before making her way up the beach.

Arthur trailed behind, stopping to grab a few things from his wagon before meeting up with her at the edge of camp where the horses grazed. He slipped Llamrei a peppermint real quick before giving her a few good pats and mounting up, guiding her over to where Willa and Tulip were already waiting at the edge of the path.

Willa made him stop just before they took the fork in the road that would lead them on into Rhodes. She dismounted and unfastened her gun belt, turning to dig in Tulip's saddlebags and producing a long brown skirt that she unbuttoned a ways before stepping in through the waist and pulling it right up over her pants. Arthur gave her a puzzled expression, but managed to keep his mouth shut. Once she got the thing buttoned back up, it looked surprisingly normal. She reached back into the saddlebag and hauled out the old blonde wig, carefully tucking the cavalry hat away. She gave a long-suffering sigh before planting one foot up in a stirrup, muttering to herself. "This is always the worst part…" She yanked herself up and turned so that she'd be riding sidesaddle into town, finally giving Arthur the go ahead to keep moving.

He snickered to himself a bit at how exasperated she seemed to be with anything ladylike, but he had to commend her. She almost reached Hosea's level of dedication to a con, even one as simple as trying to blend in with a bunch of southern hillbillies. "So what you gonna be doin', exactly?"

Willa glanced over at him as they made their way past the train station. "Well, just listening mostly. Plant myself at a table in the corner, out of the way, nurse a few drinks, maybe try talkin' to a few folks if it seems like they're feelin' chatty."

Arthur hummed to himself, letting one hand dangle at his side as they ambled down the dusty main street of Rhodes.

"Oh! I gotta grab some ammunition. Let's hitch the horses here at the general store." She pulled Tulip up ahead and brought her to a stop at the hitching post, Arthur following up behind. Willa and Arthur both dismounted and restocked their supplies at the store, filling up saddlebags and bandoliers, respectively, before deciding to walk the rest of the way over to the Parlour House.

As they made their way around the bend next to the Gray woolen mill, Arthur happened to notice a man sitting hunched over near the road. Thinking it was a drunk who'd had one too many, Arthur's cynicism got the best of him. Before he could even stop himself, he'd asked, half jokingly, "you okay there, mister?"

The man's head shot up and he seemed to both straighten his posture _and_ shrink back from the pair as they came up towards him. "You folks need me to move?"

Now that Arthur got a good look at him, he was surprised to see the dark skinned man in front of them was actually extremely clean cut. Not a drunk at all, he was in a fairly well tailored suit, clean-shaven and sporting a deep part in his pomaded hair.

Willa blinked, glancing at Arthur briefly. "Move?"

"A-am I sittin' in the wrong place?"

Arthur tilted his head, brows furrowing in confusion. "Excuse me?"

The man's hands went up defensively. "I didn't mean any offense, sir. Please…"

Arthur blinked, his tone unconsciously becoming more aggressive the more confused he became. "I don't get your meanin'…"

"I'm very sorry, folks." The man reached down for an attaché that sat on the ground beside him, standing and starting to back away from Arthur and Wilhelmina. "You have yourselves a fine day, and I apologize for any offense I may have inadvertently caused."

Willa blinked and shook her head, mirroring Arthur's initial thought. "What have you been drinkin', mister?"

The man paused, clenching and unclenching the free hand that hung at his side. "Nothin', ma'am…nothin' at all."

"Well why you actin' so strange?" Arthur splayed his fingers at his sides in agitation.

"I don't mean to. I'm sorry for any offense."

Arthur's arms went up in another display of frustration. "How could _you_ have offended _us?_ "

The man's brows drew down. "I have no idea. But I had no idea how I offended the last fellas, and they stole my wagon on account of my impudence." He took a few steps toward the pair, seeming to regain some of his confidence.

"Stole your wagon for _back chat_?"

"Mm, they didn't like my medical practice, I suppose." The man held up the attaché as if that would explain everything and then let it drop, sighing. "I was helping folk."

Arthur and Wilhelmina continued chatting with the man for a few more minutes, quickly coming to the conclusion that the 'good ole boys' the man referred to in regards to his troubles were definitely Lemoyne Raiders. Their eyes met and it was fairly obvious they were both thinking the same thing. Arthur was the first to speak again. "Which way they go?"

The man plunked back down onto the box he'd been seated on when they first came up on him, pointing back the way they had come. "Down the road, that a'way."

Willa nodded and immediately started back towards the horses, Arthur trailing her yet again. He turned back to the unfortunate doctor briefly to tell him to stay put, then continued on behind her. Another man approached them as they made their way down the street, informing them he'd overheard the conversation and that he'd also overheard the wagon thieves mention a place called Macomb's End. They thanked him quickly and mounted up, Willa hiking her skirt up around her thighs so she could sit astride the saddle, as she preferred.

She spoke up as they rode past the train station again. "Macomb's End. Pretty sure that's north of here, on the way to Bluewater Marsh."

"Ya know, I can handle this if you wanna head back and do your…snoopin', or whatever it is."

Willa shot him a pointed look. "Oh no, Arthur. You think I'm gonna pass up an opportunity to shoot some of those bastards? I mean did you _see_ that man? He's a goddamn doctor, and they was talkin' about castratin' him!? _Crucifyin' him!?_ He was practically shaking in his boots when _you_ started talkin' to him."

Arthur grunted in agreement, urging Llamrei into a steady canter. "Still…I know you ain't been wantin' to get involved in our business."

"This ain't robbin' a goddamn train. This is helpin' a fella that got treated like shit by the same assholes that were gonna _kill_ me. And worse. I ain't turnin' around!"

Arthur nodded, finally spurring Llamrei forward into a gallop as they reached the town's limits. "Then let's go. Gee up!"

As they rode northeast, the swamps began overtaking the landscape around the road. Evening was drawing on, and all the vines and Spanish moss choking the trees took on a golden glow in the late afternoon sun. They continued on toward what looked like a peninsula jutting out into the swamp. A few ramshackle cabins came into view at the very end of their path and they both slowed the horses back into a trot, veering close to the thick foliage at the side of the road.

Willa glanced at Arthur out of the corner of her eye, voice low. "Guess this is your chance to get all shot up again."

Arthur hummed, unconsciously rolling his shoulder. "I'll be just fine. You got anything with a scope on it?"

Willa shook her head. "Shotgun and a pistol's what I got. Get me in close enough, that's all I need."

She veered Tulip off to the left into a thick stand of trees and dismounted, yanking the stupid wig off and unbuttoning the skirt, letting it drop around her ankles before stepping out of it and picking it up to throw it across her saddle. She flipped open the top of her saddlebag, pulling out the box of shotgun shells she'd purchased earlier and dumping them out into her satchel, catching a few loose ones and stuffing those into the pockets of her pants. She grabbed her gun belt too, re-fastening it around her waist and checking the pistol in the holster.

Arthur had dismounted by now as well, tethering Llamrei to a tree and sliding his rolling block rifle out of its holster near his saddle. When she was ready, he gave her a nod and used his free hand to pull his bandana up over his nose.

She smirked, curling a finger around the bandana tied around her own neck. "Nice bandana. Where'd you get a fine piece of cloth like that?" she asked before she tugged hers up to cover her face, mirroring his action. Her fingers were trembling slightly from the tension that invariably builds up before a proper gunfight, so she put them to better use and grabbed her shotgun from its holster at Tulip's side.

"Some foolish woman thought a few bloodstains was enough to ruin my old one," he replied with a grim smile from beneath the black scrap of cloth. He moved forward past her, taking a knee just behind a large oak and bringing up the rifle so he could look through the scope at what lay ahead of them. Humming to himself, he motioned with a hand for her to come over.

Willa obliged, coming up beside him. "What you see?"

"Three out front. At least two more further back by the water. If you circle around to the right of the road you've got those two old shacks you can come up behind. Might give you some cover if you're preferrin' to get up close and personal."

She nodded. "Wait for me to get over there before you start shootin'." And with that, she hurried across the road to their right and disappeared into the thick foliage of the swamp to cut around in a wide half circle and come out around the back of the first shack.

Arthur steadied his breathing, waiting for her to get into position. When he saw her dark figure creeping around the side of the shack that faced him, he held up a hand for her to stop when she gave him a quick wave. She pressed herself up against the moldering wall, shotgun clutched close to her chest.

Arthur took aim at the first man standing watch at the entrance of the property and pulled the trigger. The sound of the bullet firing rang out across the swamp, and suddenly it began. The first man went down before he even had a chance to do anything, and Arthur swung the rifle over to the left, taking aim at another raider. He shot again as the second man was just starting to raise his gun in Arthur's direction, the bullet tearing a hole through his chest and dropping him instantly.

After Arthur fired the first shot, Willa strode to the edge of the shack and peered around, looking for the third guard. He had ducked and taken cover behind a couple large crates just a few feet away from her. She pumped the shotgun and blew the man backwards before ducking back behind the wall.

Men were running up from the waterfront now, shouting and taking cover behind a few large stacks of felled logs on the other side of the buildings. Arthur ran forward from behind the tree to take cover behind the biggest structure on the property, something that looked like it might have been a barn or a warehouse at some point in the distant past. He ducked behind the edge of the building as shots whizzed past him, one taking a splintered chunk out of the old wooden siding close to his head.

While Arthur was moving, Wilhelmina made her way around the back side of the shack she'd been using for cover, coming around on the opposite side. There was another old shanty in front of her that she darted over to, moving to the corner of that building and peering around to see where the other raiders were making their stand.

Her eyes widened as she saw a man running up to the opposite side of the old barn where Arthur was positioned. She swung the shotgun up to take aim at him, but before she could even complete the motion a chunk of the man's head flew off in a fine spray of blood and bone and he took a few more wobbling strides before dropping into the mud like a sack of rocks.

She was completely cowed by Arthur's proficiency with guns. It was like nothing she'd ever seen before; he barely even had to aim, just firing shots smoothly and as quickly as he could as soon as the opportunity presented itself. She saw another raider's head pop up above one of those piles of logs off to her right and she pressed herself back against the wall of the building, aiming with the shotgun and blowing a ragged hole in the man's neck that sent him crumpling backwards.

She quickly ducked back behind the corner, pumping the shotgun again to eject the spent shell casings. She popped the chamber open, digging into her pockets for two more shells to load in. She heard more gunfire coming from over by the pile of logs and glanced over in that direction briefly to see another man take a bullet in the chest.

Once she'd reloaded the shotgun, she stepped out from behind the shack again, clipping yet another man who'd decided to make a run for the cover of the building she was currently using. He wailed and fell to the ground in front of her, his arm almost completely taken off at the shoulder.

Arthur had made his way out from behind the barn at this point, slinging the rifle over his shoulder in favor of his revolver and a sawed off shotgun. He fired multiple shots at a man who'd come running out from behind a tree. The man was firing wildly in Arthur's direction, missing every shot he took until he went down just like the others.

Willa caught movement out of the corner of her eye and turned back to see Arthur darting across the open space between the buildings towards her. As he was coming close to the porch of the first shack, the door of the old building suddenly flew open and another raider came barreling out. Arthur didn't have time to react before the man crashed into his bad shoulder, knocking him to the ground breathless and almost in tears from the pain, his vision going momentarily white.

Arthur's attacker managed to get above him and he lowered his gun toward Arthur's head. His eyes widened and his jaw dropped, the pain _almost_ forgotten as it only took him a fraction of a second to realize what was going to happen next. He grit his teeth and was preparing to make a last ditch effort to kick the man off when suddenly the explosive sound of the shotgun echoed around him and the raider's head seemed to crumple, a fine spray of blood misting down to settle upon Arthur as he grimaced and tried to shield his face with his right arm.

A few senseless grunts escaped the dying man's lips as his gun fell from his hands and he swayed a few times before dropping backwards onto the ground near Arthur's feet. Arthur's eyes went up to the sky as he took in a few heavy, labored breaths, trying to muscle away the sharp ache in his shoulder.

Willa heard more gunshots behind her so she tucked herself back behind the shelter of the building and craned her neck around. She spied what appeared to be the last man standing, or rather crouching, behind that pile of felled logs. She bared her teeth and let the shotgun drop to her side, using her free hand to yank the pistol out of its holster. She stepped out from behind the building and strode towards him, waiting for him to pounce back up to try and take another shot. When he inevitably did, she was only a good fifteen feet away and she put a few more rounds into him than she probably needed to. Never hurts to be sure, after all.

When silence finally descended over them, she cast a few cautious looks back and forth, waiting to see if anyone else might be around waiting to make a move. Satisfied after a minute, Willa hurried back toward where Arthur had managed to sit himself up on the muddy ground.

"You alright?"

Arthur closed his eyes and nodded, planting one hand on the ground to help lever himself back to his feet. He teetered a little bit once he was up, and Willa quickly jammed her pistol back into its holster before using the now free hand to put a steadying weight against his chest. "You _sure?_ "

Arthur grunted. "Yes, I'm sure."

She looked up at him intensely for a few moments, eyes searching for a hint that he might be lying. Finally satisfied that at least he wasn't looking like he might tip over at any moment, she bent down to grab the guns he'd dropped on the ground and handed them back to him. "Let's find that wagon then."

Arthur holstered his weapons and nodded, motioning for her to take the lead. He lifted his hand to put some gentle pressure on the massive bruise that had formed around the wound in his shoulder, keeping it there until they'd spotted the wagon tucked back behind the last shack near the water.

Willa looked up and down at the slightly garish medical wagon, noting what looked like a giant mortar and pestle regally attached at the top. "Dr. Renaud…well no offense to the good doctor, but no wonder this monstrosity got stolen…"

Arthur let out a husky chuckle before clambering up into the driver's seat. "Go fetch the horses? I'll drive this rig back to Rhodes."

Willa nodded and made her way around the shack and down the muddy road while Arthur cracked the reigns and urged the horses into action. Once she came up on the spot where they'd dismounted, she untethered Tulip and Llamrei from the trees, stuffing all of her things she'd left out into the saddlebags quickly before mounting up. She ran a hand down Tulip's mane appreciatively, turning her so her nose faced the road to wait for Arthur to ride up with the wagon.

Arthur gave a short whistle to Llamrei and the Warmblood fell into step behind the wagon, following amiably. Willa guided Tulip along behind and crossed around the back of the wagon to come up beside where Arthur sat. They rode this way for a while in silence before Arthur finally spoke.

"Thanks."

She glanced over. "What for?"

"For shootin' that bastard that dropped me. I was seein' stars for a minute there. Not much chance I would'a come out of that alive." He couldn't help but think back to when he'd been jumped at Six Points Cabin. If not for Kieran, he'd have been dead then for sure. He always knew it was a hazard of the life, but he saw the way others in the gang were loathe to say thank you after being rescued from the consequences of their own stupid mistakes, and he'd made a sort of unconscious promise to himself that he would try to be a bit better than that.

Wilhelmina snorted softly. "No need to thank me. I owe you, remember? And if I'm countin' correctly, we still ain't square yet."

Arthur shook his head. "You don't owe me nothin' for bein' in the right place at the right time."

"That all you think it's been? I don't think any other fella doin' bounty work would have just let me go on my merry way like you did."

He glanced over at her. "Normally I wouldn't either. But you…seemed like you was tellin' the truth about the girl in the saloon. And with what I do for a livin', I weren't in much position to take the moral high ground when you was offerin' to pay what the bounty did. Honestly thought I'd never see you again after that."

She chuckled, nodding in agreement. "Well, that makes two of us. But it ain't just that though. Even this, right now, what we're doin' for this Dr. Renaud fella…I don't think there's many folks in these parts that would have helped him…"

Arthur's eyes narrowed as he guided the horses into a turn to keep following the road south, Willa keeping pace a few feet away. "You're right about that…not sure I'm seein' your point though."

She huffed out a sigh. "My point is…you're a real decent man, Arthur. I know you rob and lie and kill people, but…you don't, well…you ain't just some grumpy strongman. You ain't _just_ Dutch's enforcer. You ain't _just_ goin' around killin' folks for the jolly fun of it, or kidnappin' women. This life, Dutch, they ain't the only things that make you who you are. I just feel like…like maybe that's all you see sometimes. Like you don't realize the good things you've done, 'cause they get lost in between all the bad."

Arthur's brow furrowed. "Aside from the fact that you're wrong, I could say the same about you." He glanced sideways at her.

Willa had been looking pointedly down at her saddle horn before he responded. Taken by surprise, she blinked and looked back at him. "What are you talkin' about?"

Arthur very gently rolled his shoulder, wincing though it was starting to feel better. "Replace what you said about Dutch wit' your brother and I could say the same for you. This…vengeance quest you're on, _it_ ain't all _you_ are. Actin' like that's the only thing you got to live for. All the wisdom you try to talk, you should know better'n that." He shook his head once before looking up toward the darkening road ahead of them.

She blinked and looked back down, mulling over his words as Tulip kept a steady pace underneath her. "I _know_ I ain't wrong. Despite that, I also got the good sense to know I ain't very wise. I just…I seen how much weight you carry. Bein' at your camp for a whole month, I see more than people realize. And I think you're right about this thing with those two families. But you're still gonna go along with it…aren't you?"

"I got to be behind Dutch no matter what. And besides, Hosea thinks it'll be worth somethin' too, and that ain't a thing I dismiss too easily. We been in scrapes worse than this before, and they've always led us right."

"And what if they don't, Arthur? What if you choose to ignore your gut one too many times?"

He gave her a pointed frown. "Now that don't really matter. I _know_ we ain't gettin' outta this. Whether it's here, with those Grays and Braithwaites, or somewhere else down the line with Pinkertons or goddamn O'Driscolls. There ain't no gettin' out of it."

She shook her head, bewildered. "So _why?_ Why stay at all? If you're so sure it's gonna kill every last one of you fools?"

His gaze fell to his hands and his head tipped down. "What else is there? Other than knowin' some of those fools _can_ make it out?"

Wilhelmina's breath caught in her throat and she looked away from him, across the empty fields to their left. They were out of the swamps now, closer to Rhodes then she'd thought. "Well now you know why _you're_ wrong about _me_. What else is there for _me_ after I kill my brother? 'Cause make no mistake, I _will_ kill him. But then what? I ain't got nothin' else."

"You got _everything_ else! Hell, you and Lenny, you could run off-"

"Me and _Lenny_!? Are you out of your goddamn mind? That boy's ten years younger than me, Arthur. He don't know nothin' about me, other than I'm quite positive I remind him of that Jenny girl…which ain't healthy in my opinion! And besides that, well, that's like me sayin' you could just run off with Mary!"

Arthur found his tone becoming more aggressive, although he didn't necessarily mean it to. She'd touched upon another one of his sore spots, although it seemed he had touched upon at least one of hers as well. "I'd love to! I had the opportunity, many times, but I always stayed because of Dutch and Hosea…you, you got _nothin'_ holdin' you back!"

Willa looked back at him briefly, her stomach starting to feel like a hollow pit inside of her. She couldn't understand why those words hurt her as much as they did; everything he'd said during the entire conversation, talking about himself like he was as good as dead already, offering Lenny up as some sort of temptation for her to…to what? Let her brother go and start a new life? _Forget_ fifteen miserable years? Talking about himself as if he didn't know that currently _he_ was the thing holding her back. As if Hosea suddenly coming back into her life wasn't _just_ as important to her.

Arthur spied the large, splayed branches of the oak tree where public hangings took place and knew that they had finally reached Rhodes again. He cracked the horses' reigns, urging them to pick up the pace a bit more. Wilhelmina stewed, letting Tulip drop back behind the wagon and keep pace with Llamrei. She glanced over at the horse and scowled. "Your master's a goddamn bastard sometimes, Rei."

The horse nickered at her and she couldn't help but let out a sour chuckle. As they rode up past the sheriff's office, she heard Arthur's voice emanating from the front of the wagon. "Ahh, you know this feller don't you?" She could only assume he was speaking to the horses.

A voice piped up from further down the road, and she recognized it as Dr. Renaud's. "Oh my! Look who it is! I did not count on seein' that wagon again…nor you for that matter!"

Arthur pulled up on the reigns and the horses brought the wagon to a stop. He clambered down off the bench and glanced over at the man as he replied. "Only people you won't be seein' are the folks that took it."

Wilhelmina pulled up on Tulip's reigns as she came up beside the two men, remaining silent as they spoke. The doctor went about checking the various compartments of the wagon, making sure nothing had been stolen or broken. "It wasn't a trouble now, was it?"

Arthur took a few steps forward, following after him curiously and responding with a small chuckle. "No…it was a pleasure."

Dr. Renaud offered Arthur a pamphlet that contained a recipe for some sort of health tincture before circling back around the wagon and closing all the various compartments he'd opened. He climbed up onto the bench and grabbed up the horses' reigns. Willa rode up beside Arthur as the man spoke once again. "Well, if you folks see me on my travels and you're in need of somethin', make sure you come and say hello."

Willa gave the man a smile and a small wave. "Thank you, Dr. Renaud."

Arthur responded in kind, raising his arm giving the man a two-fingered wave. "Travel safe now."

After the doctor had ridden off and it was just the two of them again, Willa clicked her tongue at Tulip to let her know she wanted to keep moving. Arthur immediately fell into step beside her. "Where you goin?"

"Goin' to check out the Parlour House, like I said I would. Get back to camp, Arthur. I'll see you later." With that curt response she urged Tulip into a trot and away from him, leaving him standing alone in the dark in front of the woolen mill.

Llamrei came up behind him and nickered softly and he turned to put a hand on her neck. He glanced back in the direction Wilhelmina had ridden, wondering if maybe he should go after her, and then sighed and shook his head. She didn't want him there. "C'mon, girl…" He pulled himself back up into the saddle and took up the horse's reigns, veering her around to head north again.


	8. Shady Belle - The Lost Boys

Wilhelmina had rushed back to Clemens Point in the very early hours of the following morning, practically bursting with the information she'd gleaned from some of Sheriff Gray's cousins in the Parlour House.

After tethering Tulip at the hitches on the outskirts of the camp she'd stalked right over to Arthur's wagon, prodding him awake until he'd asked what the hell it was she wanted. She proceeded to tell him all about how Leigh Gray had organized some sort of local militia to come put down the 'no-good thugs that had come to stir up trouble in their town'. She'd heard from two of Sheriff Gray's very own men that whatever job they'd offered to Bill Williamson was nothing more than a front to ambush them.

Arthur had sat up straight in his cot when she'd told him that, mouth agape. He hadn't known what to do at that moment, except to say he'd bring it up to Bill the next day. Of course, with Micah involving himself more and more, Bill was hesitant to believe anything Arthur and Wilhelmina said. They'd decided to go into town anyway, and Arthur felt he could do nothing but follow along. At the very least, to try and protect the dumb bastards who wouldn't listen to him.

As luck would have it, Arthur putting that bug in their ears had resulted in the boys walking into town a few days later on high alert; if they hadn't, someone might not have noticed the pointed looks they received from the very few men out walking the streets that day, or the _other_ men with rifles waiting up on balconies to take potshots at them when they got close enough.

Having that forewarning allowed all four of the men to escape the ensuing gunfight relatively unharmed, although Bill had still managed to somehow get himself taken prisoner in the sheriff's office. If not for Arthur and Micah's almost uncanny gun slinging abilities, that alone probably could have been the end of all of them.

The day before this, Wilhelmina had slipped out of camp to make her way back to St. Denis again. She had lost patience with Micah and Bill, and even trying to explain to Hosea what a bad idea she thought it was seemed to have little effect on the outcome. She couldn't bring herself to sit around the camp with the others and wait with bated breath to see who might live long enough to ride back in.

Arthur had barely spoken to her after she'd woken him up in the night to tell him what she'd heard. He'd said thank you, at least, but the most she'd been able to get out of him the day following that were mumbles and ambivalent grunts. Before she'd packed up her tent and ridden off, she'd still told him explicitly not to go off and die in that little shithole of a town.

His gaze had settled on her for what felt like a long few moments before he'd simply said, "I won't." It had felt like there was more behind that short remark, but the both of them were far too stubborn to let whatever the rest of it might have been be put into words.

Back in the city, switched out into her blouse and skirt, she had tried to push her anger out of the front of her mind. The stupid goddamn men in that gang…and Arthur, the stupidest of all of them for refusing to put his foot down. Someone would call him a doubter and he'd fold in half under the weight of the criticism. Hosea had told her she'd made the right decision in leaving (although she'd hadn't said anything about it being permanent) and had wished her well warmly enough, but she still couldn't help resenting him too for having a part in the whole mess.

And she still couldn't bring herself to forgive Arthur for the comment about her running away with Lenny. What kind of a goddamn fool even was he? Lenny was practically a baby, and he could have such a bright future ahead of him if he really wanted it. A _real_ future, with a wife and children someday.

 _I mean hell, he could'a said the same thing about the two of us runnin' off together and made a better damn point._ But no – she cut that thought off quickly enough. Arthur liked her well enough, that she was sure of. But he was fiercely loyal to Dutch's gang, to the point of being unafraid to die for it; and expecting to, seemingly. And even if he didn't, she'd seen the way Arthur was with Jack. She thought that deep down, secretly he'd probably want to be a daddy someday too. There was no place for her in any of those equations, even if she wanted one.

Wilhelmina's dark thoughts had been cut off when she'd been wandering along the city's waterfront, checking out the huge steamers pulled up at the docks and the laborers who were busy bustling crates and supplies back and forth from the boats. All of a sudden, she'd heard the faintest plaintive whimper from somewhere off to her left.

She stopped in her tracks, blinking and taking a few steps closer to some large pallets stacked high with crates in front of what looked like some sort of storage shed. She heard another faint cry and checked quickly in both directions to see if anyone was watching her before she ducked in between the pallet and the shed. There was a window in the side of the little building, but she had to stand up on her tip-toes to be able to see through it. Craning her neck up, fingertips curled over the sill, her eyes swept over what she could see through the glare of the afternoon sun that reflected off the window.

She gasped and dropped back onto the balls of her feet, her gaze sweeping in both directions again as she flipped open the top of her satchel and began digging inside it. Finally producing the hairpin she'd been looking for, Willa made her way around the front of the shed, one hand grasping for the padlock clasped around the door handle. She got to work with the hairpin, gently poking at the mechanisms within the padlock before it finally relented to her and clicked open.

She stuck the hairpin between her lips for the moment and let the padlock drop to the ground before opening the door just enough so that she could slip inside the shed, making sure to pull it closed again behind her. She immediately dropped to her knees in front of the young boy that was tied up in the corner of the dark little room. She took the hairpin and stuffed it into her hair as she addressed him in what she hoped were soothing tones. "Hey there…hey now, it's okay. I ain't here to hurt you."

She slowly and gently reached up to pull out the rag that had been shoved into the boy's mouth, using her other hand to wipe his sweat-slicked hair out of his eyes. As soon as he was able to speak, his slightly shrill voice bombarded her in the confines of the small shed.

"Please lady, get me outta here! They're gonna put me on one 'a those trains and send me away!"

Wilhelmina's brows furrowed as she rummaged in the satchel again, this time producing her hunting knife. She unsheathed it and bent down to begin working at the knot of rope around the boy's wrists. "What trains? Who did this to you?"

"The orphan trains! Please, lady, just get me outta here before they come back!"

She sawed at the ropes a bit faster at the encouragement of his woeful and demanding cries. Once his wrists were free she moved down, working at the rope that was keeping his ankles together.

After his bindings had been tossed aside, she helped the quivering boy to his feet and slid an arm around his shoulder. She shushed him for a moment and pushed the door of the shed open just enough to poke her head out and check for any potential hostiles. She glanced down at him briefly. "You stick right by me, okay? For all anyone knows, you're my son and we're out for a nice Sunday stroll. Don't even look at nobody else."

He nodded eagerly, one small fist already balled up into her skirt. She pushed the door open and quickly ushered him out of the shed, tapping the door shut with her foot before guiding him toward the train station and the city proper. As they walked, her eyes darted back and forth but she didn't see anybody taking any particular notice of them. That was good. They quickly crossed over the train tracks and walked around the side of the train station. "Let's get you home to your parents, kid. They must be worried sick…"

The boy's face hardened, and his arm went up to wipe at his dirty face with his sleeve. "Ain't got no parents. Just the other kids."

Her brows drew down. "Okay, well…show me how to get you back to the other kids, then. I won't let you outta my sight 'til you're safe. I promise…"

The boy nodded and started guiding Wilhelmina down the street before abruptly turning her down a narrow alley. They seemed to weave between the backsides of the buildings at the heart of the city for a good while. "What's your name, kid?"

"Sam."

"Okay, Sam. Nice to meet you. My name's Wilhelmina. You can call me Willa if that's easier."

The boy was silent for a while before he responded. "Nice to meet you."

"Who was gonna put you on one of those trains, Sam? Do you know?"

"Some men. Think they been hangin' around with Papa Bronte. One of 'em…his name was Cliff. I heard the man with the scar call him that."

Willa stopped, and Sam's small fist pulled at her skirts when he got too far ahead of her. He blinked and turned around, looking up. His dirty blonde hair was disheveled, and his clothes were quite dirty and strewn with rips and tears. She didn't want to think about how long those bastards had had him for.

"There was a man…with a scar?"

The boy's eyebrows drew down. "Yeah. Right here." He let go of her skirts to lift his hand and point his index finger at the spot just below his left eye, tracing a line all the way down his cheek and under his chin.

It was him. Everett. And that meant Cliff was Clifford Bailey, Everett's right hand man since they'd been in their early twenties. The pair had been inseparable even then, and the number of crimes they'd committed together in the name of greed and money was probably staggering by now.

Willa bent down so she was eye level with him then, putting her hands on the boy's shoulders and looking at him with a very serious expression. "Sam…did you hear them say anything else? Where they're stayin'? Are they stayin' with this Papa Bronte fella?"

Sam shrugged his shoulders sheepishly, locking his hands behind his back. "Don't know. Hope not. Papa Bronte's been pretty good to us. Don't know why he'd go and sell us out to those bastards." His mouth curled down into a grimace and he kicked at a rock on the ground angrily.

She frowned at his language, but by his looks the kid was nine or ten already; and he'd been through a lot, so she decided to keep her mouth shut. She straightened back up, her hands sliding off his shoulders. "Alright, well, let's get you back to your friends. Maybe they can tell me a little about this Papa Bronte."

So Sam led her further into the maze of St. Denis's back alleys until they reached a dead end. There were some chairs and crates and large potted tropical plants strewn around the small open square. There were also at least seven or eight young boys lounging around here, all of various ages and ethnicities. Some of them even held rifles, which made her raise her eyebrows as Sam drew her forward.

A boy leaning against the wall off in the shadows suddenly came forward, striding with an air of authority like he was obviously the leader of this little gang. He must have been about sixteen, with a dirty flat drivers cap on his head and a checkered suit jacket that looked to be about two or three sizes too big for him. "Sammy! Where the hell you been? We thought you'd run off on us!"

Sam ran over to him and started talking a mile a minute while two boys on either side flanked Willa with their rifles. She said nothing and held her hands up at her sides, waiting.

"Those men who been hangin' around Papa Bronte, they kidnapped me, Mikey! They said they was gonna put me on a orphan train! I think that's what happened to Freddie and George! I kept hearin' 'em talkin' about how much money they was gonna be makin' off us!"

The older boy, Mikey, furrowed his brows. He shook his head, reaching up to rub his chin as if he was thinking about something real hard. "We're the ones workin' for Signor Bronte, Sammy, why would he turn us over to a bunch of Yankees like that?"

"I don't know, Mikey! This lady-" he pointed back towards Wilhelmina. "She rescued me! They had me tied up for two days down by the train station, Mikey!"

Mikey finally looked over and seemed to notice Wilhelmina. He glanced down at Sam briefly before sauntering towards her, waving off his two guards and crossing his arms as he approached. He gave her a look like he was assessing her. "You saved my friend, miss?"

She gave him a firm nod, crossing her own arms in front of her. "I did. And I might be lookin' for the sons of bitches that took him. Any information you boys can give me…well, I'd appreciate it. And then I'll leave you to your business."

Mikey continued staring her down for a few more seconds before a wide grin spread on his face. She hadn't backed down either, and he sort of liked that from a pretty lady like her. He clapped his hands and shook his head, making a show of looking down at his feet. "Well, miss, we don't know much about 'em. They rolled into town a few weeks ago and cozied up real nice with Signor Bronte. He's our…benefactor."

Wilhelmina's eyes narrowed and she took a step forward. "You know where they been hidin' out?"

"Nah. Signor Bronte might know, but not just anybody gets to see him."

"And me savin' your friend here ain't worth arranging a little meeting? I don't want nothin' from him. I just want the men that kidnapped Sam. C'mon, Mikey," she enunciated his name with a drip of sarcasm. "You boys ain't gonna be safe til those men decide to move on somewhere else. If they even decide to."

"It's Michael to you." He looked back at her, his sneer dropping into a thoughtful frown after a moment. "But, I guess you got a point, miss. Tell you what. Next time I see Signor Bronte, I'll ask him a few questions about those men. Come back here in two days."

"Two days!?" The two guards raised their rifles towards her again, beginning to crowd her back out of the dead end alley. Her hands went back up and she took a few steps backward, but she continued to address Michael where he stood in the center of the small square. "Well, that's plenty of time for one of your friends to get kidnapped again!"

She growled as the boys muscled her out of the alley and slammed the metal gate in her face, pulling the lock across. "Little shits!" she spat before turning on her heel and stomping off. 

Arthur simply could not believe the storm of shit they'd unleashed in just a few short days; first the ambush in Rhodes had led to a shootout with the whole goddamn town, another whole goddamn town, then they'd ridden back to camp to find that the Braithwaites had more than likely kidnapped little Jack. Those two families had turned the tables on them in a way no one had expected, and when the entire posse of men rode up to Braithwaite manor to settle the situation, they'd left with more questions than answers.

The boy had been given to someone named Angelo Bronte in St. Denis. That was about the most they'd gotten out of that old crone Catherine Braithwaite before she'd crawled back into her burning mansion to die with her two sons. To make matters even worse, the very next day that bastard Agent Milton had shown up at Clemens Point to try and take Dutch in. Of course no one had allowed that, but it did mean they'd had to pack up camp yet again and run even further south.

They'd ended up in the only place Arthur could think of on such short notice, that old plantation house at Shady Belle. So now here he was, wandering around St. Denis with Dutch to try and find any means of hunting down this Bronte fella before John and Abigail both went off the rails and simply murdered everyone in their grief. Although truth be told, Arthur wouldn't blame them one goddamn bit if they did.

He could understand John's deep-seated fear at the loss of the boy. Even if he wasn't laying it out on display for everyone to see, it was obvious to Arthur that John was deeply, truly angry. He'd questioned if the boy were even his or not in the past, but Arthur sensed the immediate change taking place in John now that his duty as a father was being challenged. His chest swelled a bit at the knowledge that John might finally be stepping into his responsibilities like a man, but to have to do it because of something like this? It was a shit hand to be dealt, and the best he could hope for was just that the boy was still alive.

And then there was Wilhelmina. Arthur was beyond thankful she hadn't been around to witness the whole goddamn mess the last few days had been. He could already imagine the things she'd have said to him if she'd been there. You should have listened to your gut. Should have just left those two families the hell alone after what I told you. All of you lookin' out for that kid, and you still couldn't protect him. What else would you expect, with the life you fools are leadin'? You'll all be dead soon enough.

It was becoming harder for him to tell which were thoughts that sounded like her and which were just his own self-abasing anxieties, and before long he had pretty much convinced himself that she'd ridden off for the city hating him. They'd shared few enough words in the day or so before she took off, and he was still kicking himself for it. Every time she'd made an effort to get closer to him, he shut down. He couldn't help it. It was too dangerous to let people in. He'd lost too many of the people he'd let in. She was so strong, and she'd done so well on her own already, he kept thinking to himself that she'd only found trouble since their paths had stumbled across each other.

He told himself he really shouldn't be interfering with her life the way he had been. Maybe if he hadn't told her about seeing Everett on that train, she'd have lost his trail and, with nothing else to go on, maybe she'd finally just decide to live. Maybe not with Lenny, but she was a good and decent woman despite the tragedies that scarred her, and she deserved to be happy. She deserved to find something that could make her happy.

He had been a fool for letting himself feel happier when she was around. Those three weeks he'd been stuck at camp, she'd made an effort to be around him more than anyone else; fetching things for him, sitting in amiable silence when he was in no mood to talk, just like Tilly.

But he liked talking to her, too; he liked how easy it usually was, like she was another one of the men in a way. They could talk about guns, horses, hunting; she knew a little bit about all of it. He liked how she would gaze up at the night sky, offering him little comments about different constellations. They'd lashed down the canvas of his tent on more than one occasion when there had been severe thunderstorms rolling through, and he liked the way she always had to keep one flap open during the worst of it so she could watch, absolutely fascinated, as lightning would crackle and scar the sky over the lake.

It was only when she tried to needle him about being a good man that his hackles went up. Every time she'd try to tell him how good he was, it only served as a reminder to him how very bad he was. But at the same time, a part of him desperately wanted to believe her. He didn't think she'd say those things if she didn't truly see them, but he also couldn't help thinking she was only seeing what she wanted to see. But after what she'd said to him the other night when they'd fetched Dr. Renaud's wagon, he supposed she felt the same way whenever he mentioned the good things he saw in her. The good things he wanted for her.

"Look at them fine steeples!"

Arthur was jarred out of the half-formed maelstrom of thoughts in his head when one of the street kids who'd been 'leading' him through the city – Cleet, he thought briefly – cut through the strap of his satchel as the other kid kept on talking about nothing much at all, yanking the bag off his shoulder and taking off down the street with it.

"Hey! You little pair 'a shits!" He took off running after the boy. The kid was quick, Arthur grudgingly had to give him that. Cleet led him on a merry chase through three-quarters of the goddamn city before winding into a back alley that led through the open market. Arthur almost caught the little cretin before the kid knocked an elderly man into his way. He had to sidestep the poor old fool at the last second, regaining his footing and continuing on down another alley.

He saw the kid duck under a narrow archway and veer around the corner to the right, and as Arthur made to follow, he found himself hurtling right into some stupid goddamn idiot coming the other way. "Outta the damn wa-!" He cut himself off when he finally saw the woman he'd accidentally barreled into the ground. "Jesus, Wilhelmina!?"

She was on her butt on the ground, legs splayed, clutching her forehead in her hand. He heard her say through gritted teeth, "nice to see you too, Arthur."

"Ah, shit, I-" He bent down to offer his hand to help her up, which she promptly swatted away.

Willa levered herself back to her feet, planting her hand back on her forehead. She was pretty sure his bandolier loaded with bullets had collided with her skull. "What in hell are you doin!?"

"These damn kids, they…" Arthur huffed out a deep breath, settling his hands on his hips and trying to calm himself down. "They was supposed to be leadin' me to somebody and the little fuckers robbed me instead."

She sighed and grabbed his wrist, attempting to pull him in the direction she'd come from. "Yeah well I've had my share of dealin' with 'em as well, so just come with me and shut up. Goin' in there like a raging bull ain't gonna solve nothin'."

Arthur blinked and hinged his mouth shut, but a split second later he thought better of it and stopped in his tracks, causing her to falter when she couldn't pull his wrist any further. She whipped around to give him a questioning glare.

"Miss Thorne, I gotta tell you somethin'."

She raised her eyebrows expectantly. After an extremely uncomfortable silence where he looked like he didn't know what the hell he wanted to say, she couldn't help softening her expression and drawing her brows down worriedly. "What is it, Arthur?"

He sighed, raising his hands in a lackluster show of frustration. "Jack's been taken. That old Braithwaite woman…those sons of hers took him, and they brought him here. To a man named Angelo Bronte. For ransom, maybe, we're hopin'. These kids is supposed to know where he is…"

Wilhelmina's jaw dropped. Jack? Kidnapped? God, what if Everett's got him? What if they're gonna put him on one of those trains? She shook her head slightly, trying to block those worries out for now. One thing at a time.

No. No, better to make him aware of it now. "Arthur, listen to me. I found out Everett is here and he's been workin' with this man, Angelo Bronte. And goin' behind his back too, it seems. These kids, they work for Bronte. They're like his eyes and ears on the streets, they tell him everything. Well apparently, Everett and his boys have been stealin' some of these street kids out from under him and sellin' 'em to farmers and mine foremen out west. Guess some bastards pay real well for what basically amounts to slave labor. If Everett…if my brother gets his hands on little Jack…"

Arthur's brows drew down. Rage was sparking inside him again, but he had to push it down. "C'mon." It was his turn to reach for her, taking her much smaller hand and leading her around the corner and into the small dead-end square where Michael and the other kids were gathered yet again, standing in the shade to escape some of the hot midday St. Denis sun. Arthur immediately spied Cleet with his satchel, shooting daggers at him with his cold blue-green eyes.

The boys with the rifles were there as well, and they brought the guns up to aim at Arthur, though it seemed Wilhelmina was free from their scrutiny at this point. Michael made his way out of the shadows, smirking as he looked back and forth between the two of them. "Just couldn't stay away, huh miss? And what's the problem with your friend?"

"That kid robbed from me! Give me back my stuff and take me to Angelo Bronte!"

Michael's head whipped up to fix Arthur with a condescending stare as he took the satchel from Cleet. "Signor Bronte!" He looked down to rummage through the bag for a second before shoving it back into Cleet's hands, disinterested.

Willa stepped forward and put her palm on Arthur's chest, silently pleading with him to back off. "Michael, this man is my friend, and we're both after the same thing. You were kind enough to ask Signor Bronte about those men I'm lookin' for, but all you said was he'd take care of it. Well now that ain't good enough and I'm going to ask you for one more favor…"

Arthur was sure she'd probably be able to hear the sound of his teeth grinding, but he remained quiet. Might as well let her try to sweet talk the little punk first.

Michael raised his chin up indignantly, looking down his nose at the pair of them. "Well miss, I just don't know, your friend here ain't bein' so respectful. Why should I do you another favor?"

"Because there's another boy that's gone missing. He ain't one of yours, true enough, but…" She glanced over at Arthur briefly, wondering if she should lie to try and pluck the boy's heartstrings. She made up her mind easily enough. "He's ours. And if those men have him, I will move heaven and earth to get him back."

Michael raised a hand to rub at his chin, looking down at his feet. All of a sudden Sam walked over from where he'd been standing with a rifle clutched uncomfortably to his chest, off to the side in the shade. He let go of the gun with one hand to pull at the hem of Michael's too-big suit jacket. "Mikey, please. Miss Willa was real nice to me. We gotta help 'em…"

"Aw, goddamnit Sam. Tch…" Michael clicked his tongue and pushed the boy back behind him. He strode forward, nodding over in Cleet's direction and snapping his fingers before tossing a nod back towards Arthur.

Cleet got the point well enough, sneered and rolled his eyes, tossing the satchel gracelessly at Arthur. The outlaw caught it in one hand, busying himself with reattaching the strap so he could sling the bag back over his shoulder.

Willa made eye contact with Michael again, trying to keep a firm expression on her face though she thought the desperation thinly veiled underneath was probably pretty obvious. "Please, Michael, just tell us how to find Signor Bronte. We just want to speak with him. We just want our boy back…"

Michael rubbed his hands together, ambling a bit closer to the pair. He fixed Arthur with an insolent glare. "You and them friends of yours been askin' about him all over town. He been mighty disrespected. Bunch of muddy Yankees in town, askin' questions…"

Arthur couldn't help the low growl that escaped into his words as his eyes rose to meet Michael's. "Come on, kid…"

Michael's gaze slid back to Wilhelmina and he sighed, finally relenting under her unceasing stare. She almost thought she could see a touch of guilt streaking across his features briefly. "He's got a big house on Flavian Street, opposite the park. Now, get outta here."

Willa closed her eyes briefly, sighing in relief before opening them again and finding Sam. He'd moved back into the shade of one of the walls, and she gave him a small nod, hoping he'd catch on to the silent thank you. She grabbed Arthur's elbow and turned them both around. Two of the boys with rifles flanked them over to the open gate, making sure they left with no further fuss.

As they made their way back through the narrow alley, Arthur grumbled to himself and shook his head. "I gotta tell Dutch about this. It's one thing if Bronte's got Jack held for ransom, but if your brother touches a goddamn hair on that boy's head, let alone puts him on some goddamn train leavin' the state…it's gonna be a war."

Willa nodded, brushing closer to him as they excused themselves past a few elderly Chinese women who were making their way through the market. "I know. We gotta find that house. If I can find out where he does his business out of, Everett will have to-"

"Oh, no." Arthur cut her off, slicing his hand through the air. "Me, and Dutch and Marston, we'll handle this. You hear me? We ask the man directly. No foolin' about, playin' some little song and dance wit' your brother. Bronte's obviously a big deal in these parts, I've gotten that impression easy enough already."

Willa's eyes narrowed as they strode back towards the street. "Yeah, I get he's a big deal and all, but if Everett is already goin' behind Bronte's back and doin' what he pleases in this city, what's gonna stop him from seeing if he can get more cash for sellin' the boy than whatever those Braithwaite's claimed they'd pay? Let me go with you."

"No. Say you come, and we waltz into Bronte's mansion and your brother's right there, what you think is gonna happen then? It'll be a goddamn bloodbath in the first five seconds! Now I can talk my way around the fact that he'll probably recognize me, and then we'll at least have a halfway decent chance of gettin' that boy outta there alive."

Willa dug her nails into her palms in frustration, grumbling to herself and finally relenting. "You're right…okay, you're right. But you tell me everything you find out, you hear? I'm gonna head back to the train station, Everett must have a contact there…someone who knows someone out west…"

They stopped briefly as they exited the alleyway and found themselves back on the sidewalk. Arthur curled his fingers around the bandolier across his chest, huffing out a sigh. "I gotta get back to Dutch. For now, it might be better if I don't mention your brother to him. Less he knows, less suspicious we come across. But…maybe don't stray too far from that Flavian Street later tonight if you're that keen to be involved."

Willa looked up at him and nodded. "That, I can do. I do want to help, Arthur. I just don't want you to underestimate my brother and the men he runs with. They are heartless, and if they smell a rival gang sniffin' around what they think is their territory…"

Her voice trailed off. Puffing out a large breath she turned, standing on her tiptoes for a second to plant a quick, chaste kiss on his cheek. "Just be careful, is all I'm sayin'. And get that little boy back, okay?" With that she dropped back to the balls of her feet and turned to walk away down the sidewalk.

Arthur did a double take when he saw her leaning up towards him. He unconsciously dipped his head, tilting his face away from her ever so slightly. Her lips found his stubbled cheek anyway, and he swallowed thickly as he caught the scent of some flowery oil. She must have just washed her hair that morning. Before he could even get his head straight enough to say anything else, it was over and she was already walking away.

He sighed out the breath he didn't know he'd been holding, watching her retreating back for a moment. Felt like every muscle he had was tensed right up, waiting to spring like a coiled snake but having absolutely nowhere to go. "Best calm yourself, you goddamn fool," he muttered under his breath before shaking his head and turning in the opposite direction to go meet back up with Dutch.


	9. Shady Belle - Men of Dubious Honor

Later that evening Arthur, Dutch and John all sat uncomfortably crowded onto a small loveseat in Angelo Bronte's exquisite parlor. Dutch had played what felt like a dangerous game of words with both the doormen and Bronte himself thus far, although all things considered, it seemed to be going surprisingly well. They weren't dead yet, which was a good sign. And so far there had been no evidence of Everett Thorne being present.

Dutch reached over and plucked a shot of liquor from the serving tray that a butler extended out to him, raising it in Bronte's direction. "So, uh…can my friend have his son?"

Bronte himself leaned forward a moment later and retrieved the last shot left on the tray, reclining back into his own loveseat with one arm leisurely extended. "Of course, of course…"

The corner of Bronte's mouth twitched as he looked to his left to see another one of his men come rushing in from the other room, obviously with something of import to say. "Signor Bronte, Signor Bronte! Il ragazzo è andato! [The boy is gone!]"

Bronte's eyes narrowed and he slammed the shot glass down on the coffee table in front of him. " _Che!?_ Cosa è successo?! [What!? What happened?!]"

The three men on the couch opposite exchanged worried glances back and forth at each other, still awkwardly holding the little shots of liquor in their hands. Arthur couldn't help muttering in a low, worried whisper, "Dutch…"

"Shh. Just wait and see, my boy…"

The two men chattered heatedly back and forth in Italian for a few more minutes before the man backed out of the room, bowing to Bronte briefly on his way. Bronte sighed and wiped a hand across his mouth, turning to the men sitting opposite the coffee table from him. " _Scusami_ , gentlemen. There seems to have been a…mix-up, of sorts."

Dutch's head tilted slightly and he cocked an eyebrow, eyeing Bronte shrewdly. "Pertaining to my friend's son?"

"Eh…yes, unfortunately. Some men who have come under my employment recently have proven themselves _molto buona_ at testing my patience. _Bending_ my rules. But I like you, Dutch van der Linde, so I will give you this opportunity to make amends for putting me out of pocket over a…misunderstanding, as you put it."

Arthur sighed, already knowing the job would fall to him and John. "Where are they?"

"I have these men set up in a beautiful house near the cemetery…check there for the boy. If he is not there, I have also given them access to a warehouse of mine down by the wharves. Thing is, they see my men, of course they run a mile. So, maybe you two head off first, huh? One of my men will give you addresses and keys to the buildings."

Arthur scowled, setting the shot glass down on the small coffee table in front of them, still full. "How many men we talkin' about here?"

Bronte shrugged his shoulders noncommittally. "Nine, ten men, maybe. I shall keep you, Mr. van der Linde, for a little while longer, so you can tell me more about my manners." Bronte broke out into lighthearted laughter as John and Arthur got to their feet. One of Bronte's servants extended an arm towards the entryway and followed the two men out of the parlor to get them the keys and the information they'd be needing.

As they made their way out onto Flavian Street, Arthur glanced back and forth before sticking his thumb and forefinger in his mouth, emitting a loud whistle. A dog started barking somewhere down the street, and John turned to give him an exasperated glare as he stopped beside Old Boy. "What are you doin', Arthur?"

"Just hold up a second, Marston. Miss Thorne should be around somewhere."

"What, she out here waitin' for us? Why?"

Arthur made his way over to Llamrei, untethering her from the post beside John's horse. "Those men that got Jack…her brother's their boss."

John's eyebrows flew up as he hooked one foot into a stirrup and hauled himself up onto Old Boy with a grunt. "Well that's good ain't it?"

"No. The exact opposite, actually." They heard Wilhelmina before they saw her make her way through the open gate of the park across the street from Bronte's mansion. She had changed back into trousers, and one hand rested on the holster at her hip as she walked over to the two men. "So Everett does have Jack, then?"

Arthur gave her a nod as he lifted himself up into Rei's saddle, adjusting a strap or two before taking up the reigns in his hands. "And we're goin' to get him. You ready?"

"Ready as I'll ever be. Tulip's just around the corner." Arthur and John followed her around the edge of the park until she was back on her own mount, and then the three of them rode off down the dimly lit streets of St. Denis.

Arthur spoke up from the front as he lead them down a side street, squinting at the signs to make sure he was going the right way. "You know Marston, you did good holdin' your tongue in there."

"Do you trust one word that comes outta that bastard's mouth?"

"Listen. We _found_ Bronte. We got in there. So now we gotta do a little work to get the boy back, but don't worry. He'll be fine, John."

"That poor kid…I ain't been a good father to him. I hope he's okay…"

Wilhelmina spoke up from beside John. "They won't hurt him, John. They wanna make money off of him, and they won't be able to if they rough him all up. As long as we're quiet about this, it'll be just fine."

Arthur nodded as they rounded another corner. "So listen. We _do_ wanna do this is as quietly as we can. I don't want no gunfire unless you two ain't got no other choice. We scope out this house first, see what's what. Clear?"

They both responded in agreement before Arthur spoke up again. "Miss Thorne, you know where the cemetery is?"

"Yeah, I can get us there. Let me take the lead. That where this house is?"

"Just about. And if he ain't in the house, there's some warehouse down by the docks Bronte said they been usin'."

"I rescued a boy from a shed down on the docks a few days ago. That's how I met those street kids and found out Everett was involved in all of this."

Arthur fell back next to John as Wilhelmina took the lead in front of them. John looked back and forth between the two, still missing a lot of the details and getting frustrated about it. "Involved in all of what, exactly?"

She sighed as they turned another corner. "My brother is a gang leader. And a real piece of shit, to put it in no uncertain terms. I found out he's been kidnappin' kids off the streets and puttin' 'em on those orphan trains that run out west to help 'boost' up farmin' families or somethin'. Except my brother is sellin' kids to the highest bidders out there who don't want 'em for nothin' more than slave labor. Put 'em to work when they're young, they gotta stay til they're old enough to put up a fight about it. Or 'til they been worked to death…"

John's mouth hung open, fury quickly blooming in his chest. "My son ain't gonna be nobody's goddamn slave!"

"No Marston, he ain't. We'll get him back," Arthur spoke up from beside him.

"Cemetery's up here on the right." Willa pulled up on Tulip's reigns at the next corner.

Arthur guided Llamrei to a stop, peering at the street signs again. "Okay…so this house is up here on the left."

They hitched the horses near the corner, deciding it was best to approach on foot. They circled wide around the house, noting a few horses hitched along the sidewalk outside and one lone guard posted outside the front door.

"Arthur, you got throwing knives? Can you take him out? Willa and I can sneak around the back. Maybe we can pen 'em in, confuse 'em by comin' at 'em from both sides."

Arthur gave John a nod, reaching into his satchel and producing a roll of the narrow, weighted blades. He crept closer to the house's gate in the darkness as Willa and John watched from across the street, waiting. They heard a soft grunt and the thud of a body hitting the ground a few moments later and both crept across, trying to keep low and in the shadows as they passed through the gate and made their way around the side of the house as Arthur busied himself dragging the body off into the bushes.

Willa straightened up, trying to peer in through the windows to see if anyone was moving around inside. To her dismay, the curtains were all drawn. They paused before they rounded the corner to the backside of the house, John craning his neck out just enough to see if anyone was standing guard out back. He looked back at Willa, raising a finger to his lips and then pointing around the corner before moving in that direction himself. He crept through the shadows, keeping himself pressed against the wall as he moved toward the guard standing in front of the back door. John slid his hunting knife out of its sheath, creeping up behind the man and clapping a hand over his mouth as he slid the blade across the guard's throat in one decisive movement.

Willa crept out from around the corner as John dragged the body off the back stoop of the house and dumped it in under a bush. She tiptoed up to the door, peering around inside before glancing back at John. "Seems quiet."

John came back up beside her, fishing a key out of his pocket. He had taken the ones Bronte had gifted them, hoping the guard out front had one stashed in his pockets that Arthur could use.

Willa put a hand on his, stopping him before he could unlock the door. "Just…one thing, John. I know you're probably a ball of nerves right now, but it is _real_ important that we keep this as quiet as we can. I don't wanna scare you, but if my brother is in there and he gets wind of us, of me…he won't hesitate to kill Jack. He likes money a whole lot, but he hates me more and he don't fight fair. You understand?"

John narrowed his eyes and after what seemed like a very long moment, gave her one brief nod. "I got it." He slid the key into the lock on the door and turned it, thumbing up the latch and pushing it open as quietly as he could.

They slipped inside the house and Willa very gently pushed the door closed behind her, looking around the room they were in. It was a small mudroom, nothing grand. She made her way over to the door at the other side and pressed her ear against it, listening for any movement on the other side. When she was satisfied that all seemed quiet, she gently pulled the door open just a crack and peeked through to see a dimly lit hallway. A few doorways lined either side of the hall, and at the very end she could see the balustrade of a set of stairs that led up to the second floor.

She slid through the door and kept herself pressed against the wall, craning her neck to peer through the first doorway into what looked like a kitchen. A lone man stood with his back to them, seemingly eating a late night snack. She heard the sound of a tin hitting the countertop and a loud belch as she ducked low and crept into the room, sliding her own hunting knife out of its sheath. When she was close enough she pounced, mirroring John's earlier action by clamping her hand over the man's mouth and drawing the blade across his throat.

She exited the room and followed John further down the hallway, both of them making sure to check every room they passed. There was one more man reading a book in a library at the end of the hall, and John dispatched him quickly enough. They made their way to the other side, where the hall connected to a large parlor area. This room was empty, but Willa shushed John and pulled him down behind a divan when she thought she heard footsteps at the other entrance to the room.

Arthur's large silhouette appeared in the doorway a few moments later and Willa whispered to him to let him know they were there before they both stood up. "That side clear?"

Arthur nodded before pointing a finger toward the ceiling. "Check upstairs yet?"

John shook his head and the three of them formed up in a line and exited the parlor, moving back out into the hallway and turning the corner to reach the stairs. They made their way up as quietly as possible, Arthur in the lead and John at the back, nervously checking down the stairs behind them every few seconds. When they reached the top the three spread out, searching all the rooms but finding no one else in the house. When they were sure Everett and Jack weren't there, John finally blurted out a loud "Goddamnit!"

Arthur put a hand on the younger man's shoulder, trying to give him some sort of reassurance. "We'll head to the waterfront. They gotta be there. We'll get him, John."

The three of them made their way back downstairs and out of the house only to come upon Dutch once they hit the street again. Dutch's brow furrowed as he realized they didn't have the boy in tow. "No luck?"

Arthur shook his head as Dutch fell into step beside him. "Goin' to check that warehouse down by the docks. Jack's gotta be there."

"Well let's go then, fellas. And uh, Miss Thorne, of course. What a pleasant surprise. Seems you can't quite keep away from us."

She gave Dutch's backside a slight sneer as she kept pace with John, following the other two men back to their horses. "To be honest Dutch, I hadn't quite expected to see you boys again so soon either, but this business with Jack…well, it's a bit personal now."

"How so?"

She still wasn't so sure she wanted to make Dutch aware of her brother. She cursed herself for that small slip of her tongue. "I've spent enough time with you all to become pretty fond of that boy. I had enough disaster in my own childhood to know what it can do to a person. I'd just…like to try and help, is all."

"Hm…" Dutch fell silent for a moment as they came up on the horses, each person mounting up. "Well let's hope you get the opportunity then, Miss Thorne."

The four of them urged the horses into a trot, which was about the best you could manage in a city clogged as St. Denis was. They made their way south towards the waterfront, following the directions Bronte's servant had given them. When they finally came up on the right street, they hitched the horses at the corner and walked across the train tracks towards the docks, keeping eyes peeled for the right building.

Not too far away, Arthur had them all stop. "Think it's best to split up again. I'll take Miss Thorne 'round to the other side, see if we can't pull it off the same way we did back at the house. And remember, no gunfire if we can help it. Lawmen everywhere in this goddamn city, and that's the last thing we need right now, right?"

Dutch nodded, briefly touching a hand to Arthur's shoulder in acknowledgement. "Of course, son."

Wilhelmina nodded and followed Arthur when he began walking parallel to the building, deciding to go around wide from the shadows so they could get a chance to scope the place out before barging right in. A thick fog had begun to roll in off the water though, and it was getting more and more difficult to see. They ended up pressing in closer, fingers twitching at knives at the slightest sound that emanated from the docks around them.

When they finally spied a door on the far side of the building, Arthur quickly dispatched the lone guard out front with another well-aimed throwing knife. They stepped over the body and Arthur went to push the door open but found it locked. "Shit. John's got the only key…"

"Here, let me." Willa gently ushered him aside and reached up to pull a couple hairpins from where her black tresses were braided down over one shoulder. While she worked at the lock, Arthur hoisted the dead man up over his shoulder and carried him off to drop him behind a large pallet stacked with shipping crates.

She stuck the pins back into her hair once she heard the sound of the lock opening and slowly pushed the door open. It was mostly dark inside the warehouse, which would hopefully be good for them. She continued on all the way inside, Arthur following up close behind and clicking the door shut softly behind him. He put a hand on her arm to signal that he wanted to lead, and she rolled her eyes but obliged him willingly enough. They cautiously made their way deeper into the warehouse, but it was a hodgepodge of fully stocked shelving units and walls and doors. Suddenly Willa heard a door opening down the hall behind them and two voices filled the silence of the narrow hallway.

"All I'm sayin' is, I ain't so sure we should be playin' games with this Bronte fella. You see how many guns he has?"

"Everett's got a silver tongue, Shep. Once he tells that greasy bigwig how much money we're settin' to make off those street urchins, it'll be fine. All we gotta do is pay him a cut…"

Arthur quickly reached for the latch of the first door that he could find, swinging it open and grabbing Wilhelmina's arm to yank her in beside him. He let go of her to put a finger to his lips as he ever so carefully pulled the door shut, keeping his ear close so he'd know when the men had finally gone past.

Willa found herself suddenly squeezed up against a shelf in the darkness with Arthur's bulk pressed up against her. She tried to give herself a bit more space, but there wasn't much to be had. Of course he'd pulled them into some sort of broom closet. She was scared to reach out and feel around for fear of accidentally knocking over a mop or a bucket or God knew what else. So she stood as stiff as she could, listening to the shaky sound of her own breathing in the darkness.

"Besides, the way I hear it, we might be gettin' rid of Bronte anyway…"

" _Kill him!?_ Jesus, you sure? Fella's got the whole city in his pocket!"

Willa knew she should be paying attention to the two very distinct threats currently approaching the closet where they were hastily hidden away, but she was finding it extremely hard to concentrate. Arthur's revolver was pressing into the soft flesh just above her hip. His arm was currently pressed up against her chest. She could smell him; tobacco, leather, sweat. She could feel his warm breath drifting across her hair. She squeezed her eyes shut and lifted her hand up just enough so that she could grasp the handle of her hunting knife, fingers curling tightly around it. At least she could give herself that minuscule smidgen of control. At least squeezing that knife gave her something else to focus on.

She tried to tell herself she was flushing because of the exhilaration of finally being so close to catching Everett. That the sweat she felt gathering around the hairline at the back of her neck was from the anxiety of making sure they rescued Jack. That the ache she was suddenly feeling deep in her chest was merely being caused by her anticipation of digging the blade of that hunting knife straight into one of her brother's vital organs, or using it to slit his lying throat. And these things _were_ all true, but…

"And if we can knock him off, his business becomes _our_ business. Every single one of us would live like kings, Shep. And in a city like St. Denis? Shit…it's a risk _I'm_ willin' to take."

Their voices began to grow quieter as they passed the closet and continued down the hall. Arthur fidgeted slightly in the darkness beside her, not sure how else to get her attention before addressing her in a hushed whisper. "They're past. Now I'm gonna open this door, and we take 'em both from behind." There was only silence, so he continued. "Clear?"

Wilhelmina sucked in a sharp breath and glanced up at where his voice was coming from, finally knocked out of the lonely wilderness of her own head. "Yeah. Yes…sorry."

He hummed quietly before thumbing the latch on the door and pushing it back open. Arthur slipped out of the small closet with Wilhelmina close behind and they both drew their hunting knives as they crept up behind the two men as silently as possible.

"From what I heard, Everett's still gotta smooth the plan out. Guess that's what him and Cliff are up to tonight. You know how it is. We watch the kid, they go off drinkin' and whorin' and ' _comin' up with a plan_.'"

Wilhelmina could almost hear the man rolling his eyes. Her fist curled tighter around her knife and she made brief eye contact with Arthur before they nodded and each grabbed a man from behind and slit his throat. As the bodies slumped to the floor, they each stepped over and made their way clear of the narrow hall.

A more open floor plan greeted them at the end of the warehouse. They met up with Dutch and John in this area, maneuvering around a few large pieces of machine equipment to converge on a staircase that led up to the second story, which was really more of a barn style loft. Dutch took the lead, with Arthur and John following and Wilhelmina coming up last. She had lost a bit of her enthusiasm after hearing that Everett and Clifford had both cleared out for the night. She couldn't go after them in the saloon; she'd have to wait for another opportunity. Maybe she could wait here or go back to that house by the cemetery to try and take them by surprise…

John unlocked a door at the top of the stairs and looked in to see an office. There was a man standing guard over his son, leaning lazily against the desk with a rifle slung over his shoulder.

"Son of a bitch!" Without a second thought John started barreling forward, catching the guard in the chest just as he'd been about to swing the rifle off his shoulder and throwing him back into the wall. Arthur strode in right behind him, dragging John off by the collar of his coat and wordlessly shoving him towards where Jack sat curled into a ball in the corner.

"Papa!"

"Jack..." John snapped to his senses and took a knee, catching the boy up in his arms for a moment before holding him out at arm's length so that he could make sure they hadn't hurt him. "Am I glad to see you!"

Arthur clamped a hand over the wheezing guard's mouth and yanked his gun out of his hand, tossing it to the ground. He dragged the man out of the room as Dutch stood off to the side and lit a cigar, looking smug at his son's handiwork. Willa's jaw dropped as she watched Arthur haul the man out of the office, well away from where Jack could see what he was about to do with the bastard.

Arthur threw the man into the wall by where the stairs led down to the first floor, grabbing his lapels and lifting him up like he practically weighed nothing. He let out a heavy breath that reminded Willa of the sound a bull made when it was getting ready to charge. The man spluttered, starting to plead in whined, half-aborted sentences.

Arthur quickly shushed him by removing one hand from the man's lapel and pinning him against the wall with the whole weight of his forearm against the man's throat. "Normally, I'd leave one 'a you bastards alive so as to make sure the rest of your friends know just what kind of a hornet's nest they've stirred up. Sorry, boah. You ain't gonna be so lucky."

The hand not keeping the guard pinned to the wall dropped to the handle of his hunting knife. Arthur slipped it easily from its sheath and brought it up, plunging it at an upward angle just under the man's rib cage. He held it for a moment and then jerked the knife, making sure to do some real damage in there. Arthur kept him there until he was sure the man was dead, then hefted the weight over his shoulder and took the body to dump it in another room.

Dutch sauntered out of the office with John and Jack close behind, glancing over as Arthur exited the room at the end of the walkway. "What a fine example of justice being served." He reached out to clap Arthur on the shoulder as they all made their way back towards the stairs.

Willa held back so that she could walk with John and Jack, reaching down to ruffle the boy's hair a bit. "Hey, kid. You okay?"

"Yes, Miss Mina. It was real scary, but…they didn't hurt me any."

She gave him a soft smile. "Good. Well you won't have to worry about those men no more. You're safe now."

"That's right," John nodded, keeping one hand on the boy's shoulder as they exited the warehouse.

"You know, Arthur. You'll never believe it. Mr. Bronte has invited us to a garden party at the mayor's house." Dutch broke out into a few low chuckles as they made their way across the street to their horses. "And us, just simple country boys…"

"Quite a time to be thinkin' about a fancy party, Dutch…" Arthur eyed the older man out of the corner of his eye.

As the others made preparations to mount up, Arthur felt a tug on his sleeve. He looked back to see Willa had come up behind him. "Hm?"

"You boys are good to get him back to his mother. I'm gonna go back to that house and wait for Everett."

Arthur's brows drew down. "Now, hold on. All by yourself? Ain't he gonna be sore as hell when he sees all his men are dead and here's _two_ boys been stolen out from under him? No, you'll get yourself killed if you try to go for him now, woman…"

"This is the best time! Like you said, all his boys are dead, it'll just be him and his second, Clifford. This is my chance, Arthur!"

"You two comin' or what?"

Arthur glanced over to see John mounted up on Old Boy with Jack propped in front of him, Dutch on The Count a few feet away. He waved a hand, nodding at them to get going. "Yeah, yeah. We'll catch up momentarily."

Arthur turned back to face Wilhelmina, but he cursed as she was already turning to walk away. He lunged forward and grabbed her arm, forcing her to turn back and face him. "Really? You _that_ goddamn eager to run off and get yourself killed!?"

She fixed him with a pointed glare, pulling her arm out of his grip and crossing it with the other one over her chest. "I am ready to put a bullet in my brother. If that means my death, well…it ain't no different from how you're plannin' on dyin' for that gang of yours."

"Christ Wilhelmina, are you still hung up on that? Look, I…I ain't sayin' I _want_ it to end that way. 'Course I don't. Just like I don't want _you_ doin' nothin' stupid. Just think about it for a second. You run off and try to get the drop on your brother, and it goes bad, won't be nobody there to help you."

"Just like it's always been-"

"Well it ain't like that no more!" Arthur couldn't help raising his voice, causing her to jump ever so slightly. He huffed out a sigh, reaching up to scratch the back of his neck and tilting his head down. "I want to help you. But I can't right now, not tonight. Tonight is about Jack. And I would…I would appreciate it if you just come back with us…"

Wilhelmina blinked, whatever she had wanted to say dying on her lips as her chest began to fill with that aching feeling again, somehow both brutally sharp and dull at the same time.

"Hell, there'll probably be a big party tonight, and if you go off and somethin' happens, well…you'd miss it. You'd miss Hosea, Charles and Mrs. Adler, and Lenny…" His fists clenched and then opened uselessly at his sides. He was pretty sure he'd said too much already, made himself look like a fool, but he couldn't let her go charging off by herself. "You'd probably miss my sorry excuse for singin'…"

A short watery laugh escaped her against her will and she sighed, looking away from him and over at the line of dim streetlights that marched off into the distance of the city. She remained silent for a few more moments. "Yeah. I guess I would miss all that…"

Arthur finally felt some of his tension ease off as he reached out to take Llamrei's reigns. "C'mon then. Let's go catch up wit' John and Dutch."

She planted her hands on her hips, furrowing her brows and pursing her lips like she still wasn't quite sold on the idea. He had been in the middle of lifting his foot into one of his stirrups but he stopped, looking over at her questioningly when she didn't move.

"Don't worry, I'm comin' back with you…" She noticed his look and made her way to Tulip's side, running a hand down the mare's neck before hauling herself up into the saddle. "But you don't have to help me, Arthur. You got enough of your own problems to worry about without gettin' involved with mine…"

He finally continued the motion of pulling himself up onto his saddle, guiding Rei to turn in the direction Dutch and John had ridden off in. "Your brother causes anymore trouble for us, I'll be involved with it either way. But even besides that...you got folks in your corner now, Miss Thorne. If you had me, Charles and Lenny wit' you, hell, your brother wouldn't know what hit him."

She thought about that prospect for a few minutes as they started riding down the foggy streets next to each other. It was a concept that had honestly never occurred to her, and she was a little overwhelmed by it. She was equally overwhelmed by his earnestness about wanting her to come back with them. To think that she was wanted somewhere? _That_ was a concept that had been nothing more than a distant memory until this moment.

That aching in her chest just wouldn't quit. She urged Tulip into a canter to match Arthur's speed and they headed west, back toward that odd mix of swamp and forest that defined the southern reaches of Scarlett Meadows. When they took a left-hand turn at a fork in one of the roads, she shot Arthur a confused glance across the few feet between their horses. "Where we goin?"

"Oh, uh…guess I didn't tell ya. Camp's set up down at Shady Belle now."

"Are you serious!? Christ, Arthur!" Her brows drew down as she considered what that meant. "Why'd you move? Was I right about those Grays?"

Arthur cleared his throat, glancing over briefly. "Yes. But it's a bit more complicated than that. Thank you, by the way. If you hadn't 'a warned me…I don't know if we all would have made it outta that town alive."

She sighed, her shoulders sagging slightly. "Wouldn't have been much of a loss if Micah Bell got shot."

Arthur huffed out a genuine laugh, nodding. "You ain't wrong. I gotta hand it to him, he's one hell of a shooter though. That is one thing I can brag about, but I still wouldn't want to be drawin' against him…"

"I'm…I'm real glad you're okay, Arthur. That all you boys are okay. But next time _I_ tell _you_ not to go chargin' off into some stupid suicide mission, you better listen to me."

He rolled his eyes slightly and nodded as they continued on into the dark towards Shady Belle. "Yes, ma'am." 

**[[[[[ Hi! I'm not sure if anyone who is reading this happens to speak Italian, but if so I apologize for having to use Google Translate for Bronte's Italian phrases. I hope it's not actually complete gibberish or wildly out of context/misused and if it is, please let me know and I would love to fix it. Thanks y'all :) ]]]]]**


	10. Shady Belle - The Party

As Arthur and Willa rode back into Shady Belle and dismounted, it appeared they hadn't been that far behind the other three. Abigail was on her knees on the ground by John and Dutch, holding onto Jack like her life depended on it. When they made their way over to the group, Abigail looked up with tears in her eyes.

"Dutch, Arthur, Willa, thank you…" She got to her feet, her hands never leaving her son as she turned him towards the house. "Thank you." Her eyes landed on John and remained there for a brief moment. Abigail afforded him a slight nod before leading the boy over to where Hosea and a few others stood, eager to welcome Jack home.

After the welcomes were done, Hosea made his way over to the group with a bit more pep in his step than he'd shown in recent days. He caught sight of Wilhelmina standing behind the men, but she stepped away and silently moved off toward the campfire before he could comment on it. His eyes followed her for a moment, but then he refocused on Dutch. "So…"

Wilhelmina could just hear Dutch starting to talk about Bronte before she was too far away to pick out any more. She found her way over to a crate of whiskey, reaching down to pluck out a bottle and uncorking it. Arthur did say it would be a party, after all...

Lenny found her there by the fire, removing his hat in an impossibly polite gesture before addressing her. "Miss Willa! Real good to have you back. Did…did you help find Jack?"

She shrugged her shoulders, raising the bottle toward her lips. "I just happened to be in the right place at the right time. The boys did most of the work."

Before they could speak anymore, a flood of camp members started converging on the fire and Karen raised a bottle up in the air, Sean hanging drunkenly off her shoulder already. "Come on! Are we celebratin' here or what!?"

Uncle chimed in, as usual, asking for a song from Javier. Willa and Lenny got pushed apart as John was ushered to a seat on the log with Abigail and Jack, other camp members moving in to form a circle around the fire. Javier began strumming a beautiful Spanish song on the guitar, and before she knew it just about everybody was swaying and singing along to 'Cielito Lindo.'

Willa took a long pull from the whiskey bottle and meandered away from the group, spotting Sadie standing over by the porch of the house. Sadie was just watching, her arms crossed over her chest, but she afforded Wilhelmina a friendly wave when the woman walked over. Willa gave her a nod in return, holding out the bottle.

Sadie let out a throaty chuckle, shaking her head at the offering. "No, after that night back at Clemens Point…don't think I'll be drinkin' any whiskey for a long while yet. Thanks, though."

"That's fair. Wish I had your willpower. How come you ain't over there with the others?"

Sadie shrugged, her gaze wandering back to the folks gathered around the fire as she lit a cigarette. "Ain't really my place, is it? Anyway, I ain't…guess I ain't ready for all that quite yet."

Wilhelmina's brows drew down as she began rolling a cigarette of her own, tucking the bottle underneath one arm. "Ya know, Arthur…said somethin' to me, before we came back here. I was ready to go off and find my brother after we got Jack, and he told me how stupid I was bein'."

Sadie raised an eyebrow at her as she took a slow drag from her cigarette. "That man ain't exactly one for tact, is he?"

Willa snorted and rolled her eyes slightly as she tucked the end of the freshly rolled cigarette between her lips, striking a match to light it. "It wasn't just that. He said, if I went off and did somethin' stupid, and got killed over it…well, I'd have missed all this." She waved a hand towards the large group happily singing in front of them. "Trust me, I get it when you say it don't feel like your place. It don't feel like mine either. But…he was still right."

Sadie squinted slightly, eyeing the other woman through the smoke. "Then why ain't _you_ over there with 'em?"

Wilhelmina shook her head, taking a slow pull from her own cigarette. "I don't know. Just got a lot on my mind, I guess. Maybe for now, I can just…enjoy them enjoyin' it?" Her gaze floated towards Arthur, standing near the log close behind John. He had a bottle of beer in his hand, and appeared to be attempting to sing along with the rest of the gang.

Sadie exhaled a sigh, a smug expression crossing her features. "Ya know, Willa, you two are competin' to be just about the best I ever seen at beatin' around the bush."

Wilhelmina frowned, glancing over at Sadie as she removed the bottle from under her arm, uncorking it yet again. "What the hell's that supposed to mean?"

Sadie fixed her with a pointed look. After a moment with no response, she raised her eyebrows, as if silently saying ' _you still ain't gettin' it?'_

"Well? What's that supposed to mean, Sadie?"

"It _means_ what he said to you…what he was _actually_ sayin' is that he wants to spend more time with you, idiot. It ain't as much about them other folks as it's about _him_ not wantin' you to run off and get yourself killed." Her words softened up a bit as a wistful look entered her brown eyes. "My Jake and I…we was a lot like that, before we got married. Tiptoein' around each other, tryin' to be coy. If there's one thing I've learned, it's that there ain't time for that in this life." Her gaze slid back to Willa, the wistfulness replaced with something hardened. "You take happiness where you can get it, 'cause it ain't gonna be there forever."

Wilhelmina blinked, her breath catching in her throat. She coughed and tossed her cigarette into the dirt, focusing on crushing it out under the toe of her boot. "I don't…I don't know that it's that simple, Sadie." Finally, she lifted her eyes to meet the blonde woman's. "What you and your husband had together, it…it sounded like somethin' real special. The rest of us…well, the rest of us can't always get so lucky as that. What they did to you was cruel, and unfair, and you didn't deserve a lick of it. And yeah, you could say the same for what happened to me when I was a kid, but…well, we've all made our beds, haven't we. All I'm doin' now is waitin' to lie down in mine."

Sadie clicked her tongue and looked away, shaking her head. "Get outta here, Willa, if you give a damn at all about what's good for you, cause I swear I'm about to kick your ass for bein' so goddamn thick."

Willa's jaw worked in the dim glow given off by the fire. 'Cielito Lindo' was coming to a rousing end, and folks were whooping and clapping as Javier strummed a few final chords on his guitar. She felt riled up, almost _wanted_ to pick a fight with the blonde woman, just to prove in some backwards way that Sadie had no idea what she was talking about, but she held her tongue. She walked away, raising the bottle to her lips to take a long, burning drink from it.

She heard Dutch saying something to Arthur about Tahiti, and veered right away from the direction of that conversation. She found herself over by the chicken coops, stepping around one or two hens pecking away at the ground that hadn't decided it was time for sleep just yet. Willa heard footsteps coming up behind her and turned back to see Orville Swanson, of all people.

"Miss Thorne. Apologies if I'm disturbing you. Just thought some congratulations were in order for the folks that brought the boy back."

"No, not at all. And…thank you, but I didn't do that much." She went to take a drink from the bottle and quickly remembered being told that he'd been struggling hard with both alcohol and morphine for quite a long time. Sighing, she let the whiskey dangle at her side instead. She glanced over at him, noting the strained line of his mouth and the dark circles under his eyes. "How uh…how are you doin', ya know, with all of this?" She waved one hand vaguely back at the party and all the folks drinking.

Swanson let out what sounded like both a chuckle and a sigh at the same time, crossing his arms and looking out over the old civil war battlefield that was now choked with vines and marsh grasses. "Oh, terribly. As usual. As much as Dutch preaches faith, I seem to find I…I don't have quite enough of the stuff to satiate these damnable cravings. Ironic, considering my one time profession."

She pursed her lips, nodding slightly. "I uh…I know how that feels."

Swanson raised an eyebrow at her, the corner of his mouth twitching like he wanted to ask what she meant.

"Not uh, not somethin' I've really told the other folks here, but-" She cut herself off to glance at him quickly again, twirling the neck of the bottle in her hand a little nervously. "Well, there was a few years when I was a teenager that I was given laudanum just about every day. It's a long story, but after I was left on my own, it…I didn't realize how much I needed that shit until my brother just up and stopped givin' it to me and took off. I spent two years just tryin' to get well enough to keep my father's farm going. Ended up sellin' it anyway…"

Swanson was slightly shocked at the woman's confession. "It's…it is a difficult thing. A hell of a difficult thing…"

"There were days in the beginning, when I didn't have it…it hurt so much, I was sure it was just gonna kill me right then and there. Many times, I wished it had. But…it didn't." She shrugged uncomfortably.

"You're…a remarkably strong woman then, Miss Thorne." Swanson's voice was low, just audible over the music coming from the fire.

"I ain't that strong, Reverand. I just got to a point where I realized I wasn't quite ready to die just yet."

Swanson nodded, placing a gentle – albeit slightly trembling – hand on her arm before turning towards the house. "Then I shall endeavor to do the same, my dear." He paused after he had taken a few steps away from her to glance back. "Thank you."

Wilhelmina blinked, brows furrowing, but she gave him a hasty nod before he wandered away. She figured it was probably good for the poor man to hear he wasn't quite as alone with those particular demons as he'd thought himself to be.

Willa sighed, finally bringing the bottle back up to her lips. She understood Swanson's plight well enough. Just like her father after their mother had passed, she'd developed an affinity for drink during her struggles with overcoming the siren song of the opium tincture. Everett had fed her the stuff for almost two years to keep her subdued and cooperative after Loretta died; though part of it was out of fear after she'd attacked him and left him with that hideous scar.

Willa couldn't help a part of her brain thinking she should have just gone back to that house in St. Denis to wait for him. There was a strong chance it all could have been over and done with at this very moment. But there was an equally strong chance it could have turned out just as Arthur said it would. What would she gain if Everett was quicker than her, if he and Clifford snuffed her life away because she was operating on the hasty assumption that they'd be too drunk to put up a fight? Did the risk of trying to exact revenge _really_ outweigh her very own life?

Arthur…just thinking about him made her chest clench up again. She screwed her eyes shut and took another large helping of whiskey. Corking the bottle and tucking it underneath one arm, she retrieved her tobacco and began rolling another cigarette. Seemed like it was going to be one of those nights.

"Miss Thorne! Didn't think we'd be seeing you back again so soon." Hosea came up beside her now, looking dapper with the sleeves of his powder-blue button-down rolled up to his elbows. He settled his hands above his gun belt, giving her a rather smug sideways look.

Wilhelmina snorted softly and rolled her eyes towards him as she lifted the half-made cigarette to her lips to lick the paper. "Ran into Arthur in St. Denis. I was able to put a few pieces together about Everett, and then he told me about Jack. One thing led to another…"

"One thing does tend to do that. Lead to another, I mean. I know your brother was a wild one even when Bessie and I were around, but…it never got any better with him, did it?" Concern hovered at the edges of Hosea's voice, his tone softening.

Willa winced and shook her head before lighting the cigarette and inhaling deeply, staring ahead across the marshy field. "No…never got better. I think he always hated us, for killin' our mother..."

"Oh dear girl, you did no such thing!"

"Don't matter if we did or didn't. It was a hard pregnancy and an even harder birth, to hear daddy tell about it. It broke him, but…it did somethin' far worse to Everett."

Hosea's eyes narrowed and he expelled a throaty sigh. "Was he…involved with takin' Jack?"

She gave him a half-shrug. "Not initially. He was just being a goddamn brat, as usual. I don't think he knows who any of you are, or who Jack was other than a potential windfall to him. All the same, we're lucky we got to him in time. From what I heard, that Bronte didn't seem too concerned about the kid's safety."

"It certainly does sound that way. We might be throwing our lot in with this Mr. Angelo Bronte for a while though. See what kind of opportunities we can turn over in the city…"

She chewed her lip worriedly before taking a drag from her cigarette. "Everett's been workin' under him for at least a month now. The way we just killed a bunch of his men, I don't know if it's such a good idea for you to cozy up on Bronte's other side so soon. Everett gets…territorial."

Hosea chuckled softly. "Taking out rival gangs is part of our way of life, Willa. If he recognizes me, we might have a real problem, but…well, let's just say I won't let sentimentality get in the way of what needs doin'."

"Well you already know my feelings on the subject. I'd be sore as hell to not be the one to kill that bastard, but…if anyone else got the honors, it might as well be you." She bumped his shoulder with her own affectionately, giving him a morbidly crooked smile that quirked up one corner of her mouth.

Hosea shook his head, patting her shoulder in a fatherly gesture. "Hey, I'll take that as a compliment. And you…try to enjoy yourself tonight. I'd say you and the boys have earned it."

"Yeah…I'll try." She took another drag from the cigarette and sighed to herself as Hosea left her standing on her own once again. She turned, scanning the scene laid out around the campfire. There were still quite a few folks gathered there, chattering and singing to Javier's accompaniment.

She picked up the sound of Dutch and Molly fighting closer by, over by the girls' wagon - quite in the open - and she cringed at how cold Dutch's words were. She wasn't particularly fond of Molly, but the way Dutch seemed so entirely dismissive of her was nothing but trouble in Willa's book. If that girl knew what was good for her, she would have packed up and left him by now. But it seemed most of these folks weren't particularly good at knowing what was best, Willa herself included.

Her eyes found Arthur again, and he was looking away from her so she allowed herself to indulge for a moment. He seemed to be focused on watching John and Abigail and Jack, who had moved off towards Pearson's chuck wagon to get a little more space and presumably have some real time together. John looked incredibly uncomfortable, and Abigail didn't exactly seem to be fawning over him as the triumphant father returned hero, but all things in their time she supposed. She briefly wondered what had Arthur so drawn to that scene, but she was startled out of her thoughts when she heard more footfalls approaching.

Micah strode up to her, his own bottle of whiskey dangling from one hand. He leisurely tipped his hat when he saw her look over, a smirk playing at his lips. "Miss Thorne, what a pleasure to find you without old lapdog Morgan sniffing around…"

Wilhelmina's eyes narrowed as she took one last drag from her cigarette before tossing it off to the side. "Mr. Bell." She sighed, closing her eyes briefly and pinching the bridge of her nose, trying to think of something nice to say. "What do you want?"

Micah hissed in a loud breath. "Well nothin'. Just wanted to say hello. Felt like we got off on the wrong foot a few weeks back. Arthur, he uh…well, he brings out my… _impatient_ side." He gave her a crooked half smile, eyes glinting under his hat.

"Hm…" She nodded briefly, her gaze moving past him and towards the fire distractedly. "Yeah, I guess he can do that sometimes."

Micah cocked an eyebrow, taking that as a friendly gesture and sidling a bit closer as she tipped up her bottle to take another sip. "Ya know, I figured you'd be one of the ones back there, partaking in the festivities. Weren't you one of them as rescued the boy?"

"I helped a little. Nothin' much worth mentioning. What about you? Coming back victorious from killin' all those Grays back in Rhodes…heard it was quite a shootout." She couldn't help the bit of sarcasm that dripped from her words. She knew Micah hadn't wanted to listen when Arthur tried to warn them.

"Uh yeah, yeah. Guess we owe you a bit of thanks for that, too. You was right about them, after all…"

"I was. I'm just glad you fools kept it in the back of your tiny brains when you went saunterin' on into that town." She glanced at him briefly then, crossing her arms across her chest and finding herself tapping one of her feet on the ground rather anxiously.

The corner of Micah's mouth twitched and he let out a breathy, uncomfortable laugh. "Well…guess I deserve that. Would you like me to go fetch MacGuire and Williamson, so you can remind them of it too?"

She waved her hand dismissively. "No. I don't want to bother you with that. I'm sure I'll get the chance in my own time."

"You know, I do so enjoy a woman with a sharp tongue. I could mince words with you all night, Miss Thorne…" He pressed in a bit closer and she could smell the whiskey on his breath. She was sure hers wasn't much better, but that wasn't really the point.

"Well…as much as I am exhilarated at the thought of that, Mr. Bell, I _really_ must go check on Lenny. He seemed like he had somethin' awfully important to tell me earlier." Her gaze finally shifted from the fire back to him. "And it looks like the crowd has dispersed, so now is the opportune time. Good night."

She strode off past Micah without a second glance, giving Molly and Dutch a wide berth and heading towards where Lenny sat by the fire. Arthur, Karen and Sean were still sitting there as well, on crates on the opposite side, but they all seemed to be having their own boisterous conversation.

It had been a couple hours since they'd gotten back and that whiskey was starting to work wonders. She huffed out a sigh and took a seat on the log next to Lenny, leaning her shoulder into his in a friendly little bump.

"Miss Willa!" A smile broke out on the boy's face, and she couldn't help but smile back. Especially after whatever the hell Micah had just been trying to initiate.

"Hey Lenny. What were we talkin' about earlier?"

"Oh! Heh, I don't know. Nothin' important. Say, where you been? I didn't see you after we started singin'."

She shrugged. "Walkin' around. Talkin' to folks. Thinkin' about my brother. Oh and most recently trying to get out from under Micah Bell's repugnant gaze."

Lenny took a sip from his beer, but almost spit it out when she said the latter. He chuckled and wiped a hand across his chin. "You comin' to me for protection? He hates me more than just about anybody."

"He's a goddamn pig."

"You ain't wrong." He glanced over at her, a small smile playing at the corner of his mouth.

"What?" She leaned back from him slightly, squinting her eyes suspiciously at the look he was giving her.

Lenny just laughed and shook his head, taking another swig of his beer. "Aw, nothin'…"

"Leonard…"

He smirked and glanced at her again. "Well…I was just thinkin', I ain't heard you sing anything since back at Clemens Point. Uncle's banjo is right over there. Got any other of your daddy's songs you could play for me?"

Willa blinked, a slight blush creeping up into her cheeks. "Well I…sure, I guess I got one. It's not actually one of daddy's, I learned it from a fella who was buskin' on the street in Chicago a few years ago…"

Lenny grinned and stood up to go grab the banjo that was sitting leaned up against one of the tent poles nearby. In a few short strides he was handing it over to her and sitting back down on the log beside her.

She crossed one leg over the other and propped the banjo over her knee, strumming a few chords and clearing her throat. She started tapping her foot to keep time with the song and began playing "Big Rock Candy Mountain." It was a bit crude, had been when that fella had taught it to her, but she liked how wistful it was. It made her think there might be something better somewhere out there than the harsh realities the world seemed so determined to pile up at people's feet.

She didn't even notice when the folks at the other side of the fire had stopped their conversation to listen to her, or when the people gathered at the poker table off by the chuck wagon all turned to listen. It seemed the song was striking its own chords with most of them as well; with Dutch preaching at them about escaping to some untouched, wild paradise where they could all live free, it wasn't a hard connection to make.

Uncle seemed extra appreciative when she sang the lines about paddling around in lakes of whiskey and stew, and a few other folks gave loud whoops and hollers when she got to the part about being able to walk right out of the jails since they were all made of tin. Yeah, those Mountains sounded like quite a place all right.

Most everyone erupted into claps and more hollering when she finished up the song, and Willa found herself blushing again. She set Uncle's banjo on the ground against the log, waving her hands and telling people to shut up (in an embarrassed, endearing sort of way – it just made most of them yell all the louder).

When the fanfare was finally over and she'd drank enough whiskey to kill most of the embarrassment, she noticed Lenny looking at her again. She cleared her throat, brushing some of her hair back out of her face and going to reach for her tobacco. "Well…what'd you think?"

"I thought it was real good, Willa. I think…well, I think just about everything you do is real good."

She cleared her throat again, pointedly staring down at the half-formed cigarette in her hands. "I…Lenny, listen…"

When she finally looked back up at him, he was leaning in towards her, one hand snaking up to gingerly curl his fingers around her arm. "Can I…?"

One of her hands shot up and her fingers splayed against his chest, keeping him back just far enough to stop him from doing something he'd only end up regretting. "Lenny, _please_. This ain't what you want. Trust me. You've become a very dear friend to me, but I am too old for you and I have too many scars…"

He blinked a few times and leaned back, relenting to the pressure of her hand. "I…" He seemed to deflate at her words, his brows drawing down. His hand left her arm and he immediately looked away and lifted his beer to his lips, draining the rest of it in a hurry.

Of course. He'd had his suspicions about how close her and Arthur actually were. He loved Arthur like an older brother, wanted Arthur to be happy (and it seemed like he so rarely ever was), but damn if that shit didn't _sting._ He set the empty bottle on the ground and stood up. "I'm sorry, Miss Willa. I…that was forward of me. I'm…if you'll excuse me."

Willa's mouth hung open slightly as she watched him lurch off into the darkness without another word. She exhaled a heavy sigh, throwing her half-rolled cigarette into the fire and dropping her head into her hands. "Fuck…"

She ran a hand back through the thick tangle of her hair, clutching the neck of that whiskey bottle like it was the only thing keeping her tethered to the earth. She had to get out of there. No telling how many people had just seen that absolute train wreck; she'd probably get run out of their camp for breaking the poor boy's naïve heart. She swallowed thickly and got to her feet, stuffing the whiskey under her arm and snatching a couple beers from a case on the ground before veering away from the campfire and making her way towards the back of the old plantation house.

Arthur was pretty well drunk at this point. He'd sat and watched the Marston family out of the corner of his eye for just about long enough before Karen and Sean had thrown him out of his somber thoughts. It _was_ nice seeing the three of them together – as much as it tore at the very core of him, at what few memories he had of Isaac – and he wanted so badly for John to use this as a way to start making amends to the family he'd been so neglectful of. John had everything Arthur couldn't, and the punk had so far made a goddamn mess of the whole thing.

Sean had spent the last thirty minutes or so trying to regale him and Karen with stories about his ole da back in Donegal, but Arthur had really only been half paying attention. He was startled out of his thoughts when he saw Wilhelmina stand up from across the fire.

That song she'd sung had been a real pretty thing, caught just about everyone's attention, including his. Made him think of that pretty dream Dutch had been promising them for so long now; though somehow the deeper into trouble they found themselves the more remote and unrealistic the location of their fabled escape seemed to become. But even his fixation on Dutch's whims was starting to pale ever so slightly in comparison to his fixation on Wilhelmina's; she had been right when she'd told him he had enough of his own problems without having to worry about hers, and yet he found himself worrying incessantly.

Arthur knew she was capable, knew she'd been taking care of herself just fine in a dangerous world for just about the last ten years. But now that she'd seemed to become something of an established fixture in his life, he found himself fretting over the potential of losing it all so soon; of losing _her_ so soon.

He had a pretty good idea what kind of a man her brother was by now, knew Everett wouldn't take chances and wouldn't even second guess fighting dirty. If things had played out only slightly different that day back at the Downes Ranch, she'd be dead already. That thought alone made his chest clench up, especially in the increasingly inebriated and vulnerable state he now found himself in.

Arthur couldn't help trailing the woman with his eyes as she snatched a few beers up from the case and shambled away from the fire. Something seemed off; she'd managed to avoid him all night, and though she'd been sitting with Lenny for a while, the kid seemed to have disappeared in a hurry. All of a sudden Karen's voice became shrill next to him and he jerked his head back around, somewhat startled.

She jumped to her feet from where she'd been sitting in Sean's lap, drunkenly stumbling before whipping herself around to hiss at him. "You're pathetic, you lousy Irish bastard!"

"Ohh lass, come on! Give us anot'er chance, eh? I can prove how much I love yas!" He leaned forward, trying to grab at her hand. She promptly swatted it away, turning on her heel and stalking off toward the gazebo on the other side of the lawn.

Sean let out a frustrated growl, flinging his beer into the fire and clawing his hands into fists. "That fookin' woman! You'll be the death o' me, Karen Jones!" He stood on wobbly legs to drunkenly march off after her, muttering curses as he went.

Arthur blinked, looking back and forth and feeling somewhat befuddled. He glanced back in the direction Willa had gone. Now that the children had wandered off, this was his chance to catch up with her. He gulped down the rest of the beer he had in his hand and snatched another from the case on the ground before wandering off towards the edge of the swamp where he'd seen her disappear.

Willa had found a lonely perch on the edge of a half-submerged tomb on the outskirts of the property where the swamp had started to engulf the old burial site there. She had her knees drawn up to her chest, the whiskey bottle sitting off to the side for now in favor of the couple beers she'd grabbed before making her escape from the party. At the rate she felt like drinking, she couldn't keep quaffing the whiskey or she'd damn likely kill herself.

She washed down the last of the first beer in a long swig, swallowing and staring hard at the bottle in her hand for a few moments before suddenly launching it out over the scummy water with all of her might. "Fuck!"

She had just started attempting to clumsily roll herself another cigarette when Arthur's gruff voice materialized from behind her, sounding mildly panicked. "Willa!?"

She sucked in a gasping breath and whipped her head around, losing most of the tobacco she'd tucked into the paper. "Jesus, Arthur!"

He let out a sheepish chuckle when he realized she wasn't in any kind of danger, coming up and planting his hip on the corner of the old tomb beside her and pulling a pack of cigarettes from his satchel. "Sorry, sorry. Didn't think you'd spook so easy! You alright?"

Arthur set his beer down and flipped up the top of the pack, holding it out toward her.

She sighed, tossing the paper aside and reaching forward to pluck out one of his cigarettes. "Yes..."

"Mm." He took one of his own and stuck it between his lips, returning the pack to his satchel. He wasn't quite sure he was convinced.

Willa struck a match off the stone beneath her and held it to the end of the cigarette, puffing slowly. She held the little box of matches out, which he took from her with a gracious dip of his head so he could light his own.

"So, uh…just wanted to come check in on you. Didn't see much of you all night. Oh, wanted to tell ya that song you sung was real nice. Real pretty…just wish I didn't have to hear Dutch and Molly and Sean and Karen all fightin' like goddamn polecats before and after. Much preferred it if you'd kept playin' for us instead…"

Arthur was starting to ramble a little bit, but his words died out at her continued silence beside him. He cleared his throat and reached up to scratch the short growth of beard on his chin awkwardly. "Shit, I'm probably botherin' you, huh? Person don't just wander off all the way out here expectin' to be followed. Sorry, I'll leave ya-"

He'd started to turn away to walk back when he felt one of her hands clasp his wrist gently. "No. I'd…I'd appreciate it if you stayed." She wasn't sure if he'd catch the use of the same turn of phrase he'd used on her earlier, but it seemed appropriate right now. Her gaze finally rose to meet his, though it was dark and dreary out there away from the house. The air hung heavy and stagnant, and thick cloud cover prevented the stars or the moon from making any appearance above them.

Arthur saw the look she gave him well enough, though. Brows slightly furrowed, lips curved at a minor downward angle and parted ever so slightly, peering up at him through her dark lashes like he was the very moon that hung in the sky.

All of a sudden his chest felt like it was full of lead weight. No, no. He was making wild assumptions about a thing he had absolutely no right to. They'd both been drinking for hours now, and he knew well enough how easy it was to misconstrue a simple look or a brief touch. He swallowed thickly and gave a small, hasty nod. Almost sheepishly, he took a step closer and sat down on the corner of the old stone casket beside her.

Willa took a slow drag from the cigarette. She unsealed her other bottle of beer and took a drink from it, nothing but the croak of bullfrogs and the chirping of insects to break the silence that descended over them.

Arthur cleared his throat, looking out across the swamp. He could just barely see the glow from St. Denis on the horizon.

"You ain't gonna tell me how much of a dumbass I am?" Willa chewed her lip, glancing over at him out of the corner of her eye.

Arthur couldn't help a scoff, taken by surprise at the oddness of the question. "Well, that ain't the first word that comes to mind. What's got you thinkin' like that?"

She pursed her lips, setting the beer down for the moment. "So you didn't…you didn't see what happened?"

He cocked an eyebrow as he leaned back and reached behind her to grab that whiskey. "Nope, guess I didn't." After another long bout of silence he took a sip from the bottle and sighed, tossing his cigarette out into the water and planting the bottle and his other hand on his thighs. "You gonna tell me, or do I have to take a guess?"

Her mouth quirked as she tossed the end of her own butt out into the swamp. She finally uncurled herself, dangling her legs over the edge of the tomb and nesting her hands between her thighs, looking up at the gloomy sky – anywhere but at him. "Lenny…tried to kiss me."

Arthur was silent for a moment. "Well…the kid's been sweet on you. Everyone knows that. Still don't explain why you're a dumbass, though? Did…you didn't, uh…?"

"No. I didn't." She removed her hands from between her legs and bent forward to rest her elbows on her thighs and plant her face in her hands. She let out a plaintive moan of frustration. "Christ Arthur, he's nineteen years old! He don't know what he wants! And I can't give him what he thinks he does want. And I broke his damn heart and you're all gonna f-fuckin' hate me and-"

"Easy there, girl." Arthur blinked, brows furrowing at how frantic she seemed to be. He instinctively reached out to wrap an arm around her shoulders, pulling her into the side of his chest. "Ain't nobody gonna hate you. So the kid went and seen himself a damn fine, capable, stubborn-as-hell woman and his heart maybe ran away with him a little. So what? You can't tell your heart what it wants and make it listen. But he ain't dumb. He'll be alright."

Willa swallowed thickly, finally removing her hands from her face. She sat up a little straighter, pressing herself into the crook of his arm even though she knew she shouldn't be doing it. _A fine, capable woman?_ Her heart clenched again and she shook her head, reaching over to snatch that lovely liquid courage back up in one hand.

"I'm broken, Arthur. That's all I am. Thing is, Lenny wouldn't want me once he got to know me anyway." She exhaled a heavy sigh, voice becoming barely more than a whisper. "No man would…"

Arthur tilted his head down, squeezing her a bit with the arm that was still wrapped around her. "What the hell you talkin' about, you ain't broken! Any man should count his lucky stars, you so much as looked in his direction!"

She whipped her head up to look at him in consternation, mouth gaping open again slightly.

Arthur continued rather emphatically before she could even think to respond. "So you got a bad lot for a few years? So did Abigail! Now, before you start in about me not knowin' what the hell I'm talkin' about, just listen for a second. You and her was the same age when you had to do those things. Well look at her now. She's got Jack, and granted, John ain't been the best, but he's _tryin'_. He's tryin' for her. So you ain't broken. You just haven't found that thing to try for yet."

He had such a simple way of putting things. She wished she could compartmentalize her feelings so cleanly but she didn't think there was a snowball's chance in hell of that happening. Arthur Morgan made her feel all kinds of ways, and she was just now tentatively starting to understand that what she was feeling could no longer be considered merely platonic. She felt like the biggest goddamn hypocrite in the world for worrying so much about Lenny one second and then feeling her heart damn near jump into her throat just from Arthur telling her a man should be lucky just to be gazed upon by her.

But if she was ever going to admit those feelings, he would have to know the truth. There were still a few parts of her story she hadn't shared, and this one was quite possibly the most capricious of her personal demons. Granted, there'd been absolutely no reason for her to bring it up at all before this, but she knew he wouldn't take a simple 'no' as a response to such a serious discussion. "Abigail's a lot different than me, Arthur. She gave John a son, a family. I…" Her gaze shifted back up to the sky as she sucked in a heavy breath, keeping her voice low. "I can't do that."

Arthur's brows drew down in confusion. "What you mean you can't?"

Willa screwed her eyes shut, feeling ashamed and embarrassed for having to try and explain it. "I'm…barren. After Lettie died, Everett fed me laudanum almost every goddamn day for _two years_. Got to the point where I started takin' the shit willingly 'cause it was the only thing that made my life bearable. Fell pregnant a couple times…lost 'em both times, and then I just stopped…well, I stopped gettin' my monthlies altogether after that. Not that I _wanted_ any of those bastards' kids, don't get me wrong. But…to just not even have the choice anymore?" She glanced over at him anxiously before taking a long swig of the beer. She reached up and quickly wiped at her eyes with the heel of her other palm, sighing raggedly. "What's any man gonna want with a woman can't even give him any kids? What the hell am I even good for?"

Arthur clenched his jaw, letting that information soak in. He pulled away from her after a moment, shifting himself so that he faced her.

She let out a small, entirely humorless scoff when his arm uncurled from around her shoulder and she felt his warmth pulling away. Yep, about what she'd expected. She was just about to jump to her feet and tell him to go suck a goddamn egg when she felt the pads of his rough fingers gently encouraging her chin back up; encouraging her to look at him. Her lip trembled slightly, and after an excruciating second her eyes finally lifted to meet his.

He was wearing perhaps the most serious expression she'd ever seen on a man who wasn't in the middle of dying. "Wilhelmina. You listen to me. You are just about the bravest goddamn woman I ever met. And don't crow at me again for pity, 'cause I still ain't got any. But what I do have is a hell of a lot of respect for a person who's been through so much and still walks with her head held so goddamn high. Those things _would_ break a lot of folks, no doubt…but they ain't broken you. Not every man's legacy is laid out in how many children his wife can make…" His eyes broke from hers for the briefest second, and she heard his shaky intake of breath before he continued. "And hell, some of us…well we weren't meant to have any, anyway. But that little thing, that ain't the only thing that determines your worth."

A sudden gust of wind picked up just as his words died off, and strands of her hair flew across her face as she stared up at Arthur, both of them frozen there perched on the end of that old stone tomb like a couple gargoyles keeping watch on each other for all eternity.

"I'm sorry…for comparin' you to Abigail without knowin' what I was talkin' about. But don't you think for a second the rest of it ain't true. You're good for a hell of a lot more'n you think you are, and you _matter_. And I…you got folks that care about you. A whole lot, in fact…"

Willa blinked and reached up with a trembling hand to clear the stray wisps of hair out of her eyes. She felt like her heart was in her throat again and she tried to swallow it back rather fruitlessly. Her voice emerged in little more than a whisper, but he could hear it well enough over the gusting wind. "Do…do you care about me, Arthur?"

He inched ever so slightly closer to her, his brain and his heart both screaming at him to do wildly different things. He knew how it would end. How it had ended with Mary. He knew it oh, _so_ well, but his heart was winning. God damn the booze, making him braver than he actually was. And God damn himself too, just a pathetic fool practically chomping at the bit to use any sudden burst of bravery as a means to justify his selfishness. He wanted to tell himself that what he saw in her eyes was enough justification for anybody, but he still couldn't believe it. Finally, he relented and slammed the door on the cold logic and self-abasement his mind seemed to so heartily love throwing at him.

"Yes. More than I got a right to, I reckon…"

His voice was muted; low and husky. It was a tone she'd never heard before, except maybe right after he'd first woken up that morning after he'd escaped from Colm O'Driscoll. It sent a small shiver down her spine.

His fingers finally dragged themselves from that spot on her chin, trailing softly forward across her neck until he had the side of her jaw cradled gently in his large, calloused palm. Arthur swallowed thickly and the pad of his thumb brushed ever so slightly against the soft skin of her cheek, over that small scar that stuck out from the corner of her lips.

Those lips parted ever so slightly and he couldn't help it; God damn his stupid, doltish monkey brain. He dipped forward just enough to close the gap and press his lips to hers, pushing his hand back even further to slide his fingers through the tendrils of her hair.

Wilhelmina remained paralyzed for only a moment. His was the most tender touch she thought she had ever felt in her life. She knew exactly what those hands were capable of but her brain, in its current brittle state, could not quite begin to comprehend the entire spectrum of their capabilities.

She found herself reaching up to grasp at the collar of his shirt, but before her hand could get there he was pulling himself away from her, his fingers curling to clutch at the hair at the back of her head ever so briefly one last time before he jerked his hand away too, almost as if he'd burned himself or been shocked.

He cast his gaze downwards, letting his arms drop to his sides, clenching and unclenching his fists anxiously. "Shit…sorry. M'sorry. I shouldn't…I'm sure this ain't what you want-"

Willa's mouth thinned out in a firm line and she determinedly finished the motion she'd attempted to start a few moments ago. She curled her fingers into either side of the open collar of his shirt, preventing him from leaning away any further. "Don't presume to know what I want, Arthur Morgan…"

This time she was the one to lean up and close the gap between them, her mouth finding his in the darkness with more ardor than he could have ever let himself hope for. He sighed against her lips, letting his eyes slide closed so he could focus solely on the feel of her, of her hands gripping so tightly to keep him held close.

Just as he was about to slide his own hands onto her waist, an enormous thunder crack shook the very stone they were perched upon, causing both of them to startle and pull back from each other. They heard the rain sheeting down before they felt it, but soon enough it swept across them in a powerful torrent with that wind carrying on relentlessly behind.

Wilhelmina gasped at the sudden shock of the wet seeping through her clothes, and Arthur merely smirked at her with a boyish glint in his eye. Certainly wasn't the first time he'd been caught in the sudden onslaught of a storm, and this seemed like it was ramping up to be a good one. He grabbed up the bottle of whiskey and used his other hand to grab one of hers, standing up quickly to usher her back to the house. "C'mon! You got dry clothes anywhere!?"

She hopped up and fell into step just beside him, both of them running through the rain like a couple of drunken idiots. The thunder boomed again, sending a pleasant thrill of exhilaration through her. "In my saddlebags! The way this rain's comin' down, I think I'll just take my chances!"

He chuckled as they reached the back porch of the old plantation house, hopping up the steps double time and pulling her up after him. They both just stood there panting for a couple minutes, squinting out into the darkness as rain continued to pelt them from the force of the wind blowing it just about sideways in under the roof.

Arthur took a sip from the bottle he still had clutched in his hand, grimacing slightly as he swallowed and handing it over to her. He couldn't help his eyes wandering just a little, letting himself admire how she looked with those clothes plastered to her skin. She also looked a bit like a scraggly wet cat, and he let out a bark of laughter both at himself for having thought it, and at her for looking so goddamn cute. "Aw hell, I don't think little blackbirds is supposed to get caught out in the rain…"

She gave him a wry sneer, reaching up yet again to push back the strands of hair that lay plastered across her face. After she was done wringing her hair out she finally reached out and took the bottle from him. "You're a real funny man, Arthur Morgan…"

He sighed, planting his hands on his hips and looking down at his boots for a moment. He couldn't help the swell he felt in his chest, and he was absolutely positive she would leave him regretting all of this in the morning, but he felt damn fine right in that moment. He took a few steps to come up beside her, curling his hand under her elbow to lead her toward the door. "C'mon. I got an honest to God bedroom now. Let's get you into somethin' dry."

She acquiesced, giving him a nod of thanks as he stood aside and held the door open to let her pass inside first. Arthur glanced around to make sure no stragglers were left awake as he pulled the door softly shut behind himself, then put just the pads of his fingers against the middle of her back to guide her up the stairs.

She tried to keep her mouth from quirking up into a weird grin, thankful she was walking in front so he wouldn't see the strange contortions her face was making. The light touch of his fingers sent little sparks up into her chest. It was doing a good deal to distract her from thinking about the last time she'd been in this house. They reached the top of the stairs and rounded the bannister, Arthur guiding her to the only door on that side.

Once they were in, he made his way over to the trunk pushed up against the wall by his cot. He bent down to throw up the lid and began digging inside, finally coming up with a somewhat clean pair of trousers and a simple black stand-collar shirt. "Here, you can put these on." He stood back up, handing his clothes to her before making his way back over to the door. "I'll just uh…wait outside 'til you're decent."

She gave him a small smile and a nod. After a few minutes he heard her whisper from the other side of the door that it was okay to come in. The pants were hilariously big on her, so she had her belt on and the cuffs of the pants rolled up to her calves. He smirked and gave her an appreciative nod as he walked past where she sat on a crate, rolling up a cigarette. He squatted and got back into the trunk to look for something dry for himself.

She stood up to allow him some privacy to change, holding up the cigarette once she was finished with it to let him know she was going out onto the second floor balcony to smoke. He gave her a nod and watched with a small blush creeping up into his cheeks as she padded out of the room in her bare feet, softly pushing the door closed behind herself.

Good timing too, because lightning had begun streaking through the thick cloud cover to accompany the rest of the storm. Willa leaned forward with her elbows propped against the railing, smoking and watching in silent appreciation.

Arthur rejoined her a few minutes later, coming up beside her on the balcony. He was finally unencumbered from all his hardware, in nothing but a plaid shirt and pants with a pair of suspenders thrown on top. He struck a match off the railing and lit his own cigarette before resting his hands on the railing.

"Arthur, I…" She shook her head and then bowed it for a moment before looking over at him. "Thank you…"

He blinked, exhaling a puff of smoke before looking over and down at her. "What for?"

"For…well, for understanding I guess. For not, I don't know, thinkin' less of me. It's…it probably sounds foolish to you, but bein' a woman, you grow up sort of expectin' to become someone's wife and pop out a bunch of their kids someday. Even with my fucked up childhood, once that sunk in, I…I don't know, I felt like I was just doomed. And you don't have to lump yourself in with me just to make me feel better. If you want to be a daddy someday you _should_ , you'd be a good one-"

He reached over and took her hand in his, a melancholy smile quirking up one corner of his mouth. "No." He gave a brief shake of his head. "I ain't lumpin' myself in wit' you just for the fun of it. But that's a story for another day…" He brushed the pad of his thumb across her hand a few times before relinquishing it, taking another drag from his cigarette.

Her brows furrowed slightly as she looked back out toward the storm. "Okay then…another day." Gathering up her courage, she took one last puff from her own cigarette before tossing it over the edge of the balcony.

"jus-"

"Do-"

They both chuckled a little sheepishly, clearing throats and scratching the backs of heads, Willa standing up straight from from where she'd been leaning. Arthur gave her a small nod. "You first."

She huffed out a small sigh, steeling herself and looking up at him. "Just for tonight, is it…would you mind terribly if I stayed with you? My tent and all my things are out there with poor old Tulip-"

Arthur cut her off with a chuckle, tossing his own cigarette and scratching under his chin. "'Course I don't mind. That's actually what I was gonna ask you..."

She gave him just about the softest smile he'd ever seen then, standing up on her tiptoes to press a soft, chaste kiss at the corner of his mouth before he led her back in through the balcony doors so she wouldn't see the blush creeping onto his cheeks and ears.


	11. Shady Belle - Art is the Enabling Lie

The next morning, Willa was woken up by the sun shining cheerfully in through the dirty windows of Arthur's room. She was squished onto the edge of his small cot, and her back was killing her from sleeping in that odd position for most of the night. Her head was killing her too, a fairly monstrous hangover being her just reward for that barrel's worth of drinks she'd put into herself the night before.

She groaned, rolling off the edge of the cot as gently as she could so as not to wake Arthur, who was still snoring away peacefully. Willa got to her feet, extending her arms towards the ceiling and arching her back to try and stretch out the cramped muscles. She turned back to glance at the man still asleep in the bed, and everything that had happened the previous night came rushing back to her in a veritable flood.

She was going to have to face Lenny. If anyone saw her coming out of Arthur's room, wearing Arthur's clothes no less, they'd never hear the end of it. She groaned again, bringing her hands up to cover her face. She didn't even know how this new dynamic was supposed to work; what did people _do_ when they were sweet on each other? _Were_ they even sweet on each other, or was last night just an embarrassing drunken debacle?

He'd said and done some impossibly tender things; things that made that swelling feeling bloom in her chest again just at the thought. She knew she was sweet on him, had known it since last night when they'd crammed themselves into that closet in Bronte's warehouse. Possibly even since before that, if she were to be true with herself. But what if he thought kissing her had been a mistake? What if he told her that it was only something he'd thought to do simply because he was drunk and it had been a while? Or worse, what if he didn't say anything at all and just completely ignored her while Lenny gnashed his teeth and the rest of their gang chased her out for being a tease and a troublemaker?

Willa suddenly shook her head and told herself to shut the hell up. It wouldn't be any use lingering on what ifs. She spied her clothes slung over one of the ammunition crates stacked near the door and padded over to check if they'd dried out. Glancing back to make sure he was still sleeping, she quickly undid her belt from the loops of Arthur's pants and let them pool around her ankles before kicking them aside, grabbing her own and yanking them back on. They were a little stiff, but she wasn't going to complain.

Just after she'd finished buttoning her blouse up, she turned around to grab her socks from the crate and caught sight of Arthur up on his side, leaning on one elbow with his head propped in his hand.

He cleared his throat awkwardly, his gaze shifting down toward the floor. "You're takin' off…?" He tried to make himself sound as nonchalant as he could, had tried to steel himself for this moment ever since they'd come back to the house last night, but it still felt like one of Charles' poison-tipped arrows had buried itself into his chest when he saw her looking like she was ready to bust the hell out of there. Christ, he was pathetic.

"I…" Wilhelmina shrugged, letting the hand with the socks drop to her side while the other went up to scratch the top of her head. "I don't…want to be a bother."

He shook his head slightly, voice low and still rather husky with sleep. "No bother."

She relaxed slightly at that, sighing and dropping the socks on the floor before reaching down to collect the clothes of his she'd discarded. She brought them over and laid them on top of the chest by the bed, pausing awkwardly before committing to taking a seat on the corner by his feet.

He sat up all the way, curling his legs up to give her some more space and resting his arms on his knees. His hair was sleep-tousled, and his shirt hung innocently half-unbuttoned, giving a glimpse of the solid bulk of his chest, just a hint of the scar visible from that gunshot he'd suffered at the hands of the O'Driscolls. She swallowed a lump in her throat and looked up at him. God above, she did not want to have this conversation. Wanted to keep things as they were, even with their bickering and constant back and forth, hot and cold. That was still better than being told last night was a mistake.

"About last night…"

Arthur huffed out a sigh, casting his gaze away from her. "I understand if you're…if you ain't comfortable with what happened. You had a lot goin' on, and I…maybe overstepped myself like a damn fool…" Gingerly, he raised his gaze to meet hers again. "You're just so goddamn tenacious, and brave and smart…but I understand if you don't want none of that from an old, ugly bastard like me."

She turned to scoot a bit closer to him, curling her legs up underneath herself on the bed. She didn't want to be unclear about any of this, and the tentativeness of his complimenting her without saying anything of substance wasn't doing anything to help her anxiety. "Do you think it was a mistake? Because I don't." Her brows drew down and she quirked her mouth in that way he liked, searching for what she wanted to say. "Jesus Arthur, you ain't old or ugly or… _oversteppin'_ anything. Being with you is like…bein' protected. Bein' safe, for once in my life."

She sat up on her knees and grabbed up one of his hands, holding it firm in both of hers. "You're probably the best thing that's happened to me, okay? Those things you said to me last night, if you really mean all of that, that's…that means a _great deal_ to me, Arthur. I just don't know how to… _do_ any of this." She let his hand go, splaying her fingers in frustration before planting her hands back on her thighs. "I don't know what people do when they're…feelin' things for each other, I guess." She huffed out a sigh, looking down and away again. She felt like an ignorant child, closeted away for so long from things like courting and romance.

He blinked, tilting his head slightly the way a dog might. Finally he chuckled softly, reaching up to gingerly tuck a strand of unruly hair behind her ear. "Well, to answer your question, I don't think it was a mistake either. And I probably ain't the best person to be askin' about how we're supposed to go about all this. Guess the best thing both of us can do is stop overthinkin' it so much. It don't have to change nothin', but…"

He pursed his lips slightly, his eyes dropping to her worried mouth for just a brief moment. Arthur's words became something of a low mumble; throaty, meant just for her and her alone. "It's gonna be hard as hell for me to stop thinkin' about kissin' you after we leave this room and go out to face the wolves…"

Willa felt a blush rise into her cheeks and her lips curled up into a crooked half smile at his words. She couldn't help leaning forward between his knees to give him what he was thinking about. The short bristles of his beard scratched at her chin, sending a pleasant little shiver through her. She felt him place his hand on the side of her rib cage, fingers curling into the fabric of her shirt to encourage her closer.

She smiled against his lips again and obliged, holding herself up with her arms to either side of his waist. Her back was arched, giving her the appearance of a lithe predator cat that had caught its prey with a pounce. Arthur brought his other hand up from where it had been planted on the mattress, splaying his fingers across her shoulder to gently pull her with him as he let his weight rest back against the wall.

She couldn't help marveling at the whole thing. This man, this infamous outlaw was the exact opposite of all those men she'd bedded years ago. She certainly knew there was a difference, knew those men had been paying to treat her as roughly and with as much disrespect as they wanted. In her mind that was all she needed to know about what kind of men they were. Some of them had been well to do, relatively wealthy and in high social standing among the surrounding communities, and those men were some of the worst she'd had to pander to. She'd tried to reason with herself for years that they weren't _all_ bad, but it still left a bitter taste in her mouth.

And here was Arthur Morgan. A killer. A _Nefariously Bad Man_. Wanted Dead or Alive, somewhere back near Blackwater and who knew where else besides. A thug and a ruffian who treated her with more respect and courtesy than anyone had since her father had still been alive. Who wanted to be better, but couldn't quite figure out how. Hosea had been right; he did like to play the big dumb enforcer, but she quietly reveled in the fact that she was being allowed the privilege of seeing the man underneath.

They were startled apart by a few loud, sharp raps at the door. Hosea's voice floated through a moment later, sounding tired and hungover. "Arthur? You awake yet? I'm about to speak to Dutch about this party Bronte mentioned to him and I know he'd like you to be there too."

Arthur sighed and dropped his head back against the wall, rolling his eyes toward the door. "I'm comin', Hosea! I'll be down in a few minutes! Just…wrestlin' with this hangover!"

"Wrestlin' somethin'…" Willa whispered, goosing him gently on the chest before climbing off of him as quietly as she could to get back to her feet.

"Well, you ain't the only one! Whole gang's movin' slower than molasses this morning. See you down there, son."

Arthur sat back up and hopped to his feet, doing up the rest of the buttons on his shirt and padding over to where he'd tossed his weapon equipment the night before. He pulled his suspenders up over his shoulders quickly and reached down to grab his gun belt while Willa got busy pulling her socks and boots back on.

"I'll go out first, I guess. Jesus, what am I gonna do about Lenny, Arthur?"

He glanced up at her as he sat to pull his own boots on, strapping a pair of leather half chaps on over his calves. " _Don't_ overthink it. Just be his friend. It'll sting him for a little while, but he'll get over it. Like you said, he's a kid. He'll bounce back. But…" Arthur stood up, reaching for the old black gambler hat that was sitting on the table beside him. "Maybe we should keep _this_ kind of quiet for a while? Not that I exactly _want_ to or nothin', just…might make things simpler that way."

Willa nodded as she rolled the sleeves of her shirt up. It was already hot inside the house, and she could only guess what it would be like once they emerged into the sun. "You're probably right…so what's goin' on with this party?"

Arthur shrugged, idly rolling his shoulders. "Don't know. Willin' to bet I'm about to find out though." He reached over for his bandolier, but his eyes found her again once he'd scooped it up off one of the crates. He sidled over close to her, reaching out to cradle the back of her neck with his free hand. He leaned down to give her one more sweet little kiss before she left.

She exhaled a sigh as he pulled away from her, clearing his throat and tipping his hat to her in a polite and endearing gesture. "Now don't you go strayin' off back to the city just yet, you hear? Let me talk to Dutch, see what his plans are. Then we can discuss what to do about your brother, cause I know you're thinkin' about it." He gave her a pointed look. "Okay?"

Willa stepped over to the door, clasping the handle but looking back up to him before turning it. "Okay, boss." She gave him a small, private smile before opening the door and peeking out first, then slipping out to make her way downstairs.

Arthur heaved out a wistful sigh after she'd gone, feeling the corners of his mouth tugging up into a smile. He didn't quite dare to believe he wouldn't royally fuck this up, but having that woman so willingly by his side as of late was doing some funny things to that worn-out old heart of his.

He gave it a few more minutes before he made his way downstairs, emerging out into the suffocating bayou heat to join the rest of the sad retches who'd indulged a bit too much the night before. Mrs. Adler looked to be just about the only one who was awake on her feet; he could see her marching off towards the perimeter of the property with a rifle in hand, brazenly taking on guard duty while everyone else sat in the shade and moaned about their hangovers.

Willa had found her way over to the cook fire, a cup of coffee already in her hands as she stood with Mary-Beth. Her eyes immediately found Arthur as he came out of the house and looked around for Hosea and Dutch, making his way toward them when he spotted the pair over by the gazebo.

"-you think?"

Willa blinked, snapping around to face Mary-Beth. "Sorry, what?" She hadn't heard a word of what the young girl had just said to her. Fuck. This was going to be a lot harder than she'd ever thought it would be. That stupid, soft, good-looking, respectful bastard. How dare he make her brain turn to jelly?

Mary-Beth giggled, swatting her arm playfully. "Did your brain float right off there for a minute? I was askin' if you'd mind tellin' me about some more of your adventures. I'd love to write a story some day about two mysterious ramblers who run across each other and fall madly in love! Maybe…one from the east, and the other one from the west? But you've seen more of the eastern side of the country than anybody else I've met, so…"

Willa smirked and bowed her head to look down into her coffee cup. Mary-Beth was a cute kid. She'd also heard the girl was the best damn pickpocket anyone in the gang had ever seen, which was equal parts endearing and troubling to Willa. "I guess I could tell you some more, sure. What exactly do you wanna know?"

They both turned to walk over to the girls' wagon, Mary-Beth taking a seat on one of the crates while Willa plopped down onto one of the carpets with her back up against one of the wagon's large wheels.

Mary-Beth reached down to grab her journal and her favorite fountain pen (Arthur had brought it back for her around a month ago; she didn't ask where he'd gotten it from, but she was certainly grateful). "Well. Where else have you been? Pennsylvania, New York, Chicago…?"

Willa nodded, setting her coffee down and reaching into her satchel to dig out a rag and some gun oil. She pulled her pistol out of the holster on her hip so she could clean it as they talked. "Yeah. Let's see…Pennsylvania, New York, Illinois obviously…West Virginia, Virginia, Kentucky, Indiana…and just a bit of Missouri. Then I met Arthur, Lenny and Charles in New Hanover."

Mary-Beth's head nodded up and down as she proceeded to jot down all the states Willa listed off. "And um…well, what's it like out there? The scenery, and the animals?"

Willa thought for a few moments, methodically wiping the rag up and down the barrel of the gun until it had a nice shine to it again. "Mountains. Lakes. Couple huge rivers, filled to the brim with steamers and cargo ships. Lots of hardwood forest, and evergreen forest too. Lots of farmland. New York is mostly country still, just like Illinois. Chicago and New York, those cities are huge and bright and bawdy, but I think people sometimes forget the entire state ain't all like that."

"Hm…" Mary-Beth scribbled away, but she glanced up as a shadow moved in front of her, blocking out her light.

"Apologies, ladies." Arthur tipped his hat at the two of them as he stopped in front of the wagon, his gaze fixing on Mary-Beth before he went on. "But I was wonderin' if I could possibly steal Miss Thorne away from you?"

Willa squinted up at Arthur, his silhouette darkened by the glare of the sun behind him. She re-holstered the pistol and closed up the bottle of gun oil, putting that and the rag back into her satchel.

Mary-Beth huffed out a sigh, slamming her journal shut with a muffled _thwap_. "I suppose…at least I managed to get a few more notes jotted down. Thank you for takin' the time to talk with me, Willa."

Wilhelmina grabbed her coffee up off the ground and hauled herself to her feet, smiling at Mary-Beth and bending over to tap her finger on the hard cover of the journal that sat in the girl's lap. "Hey, with all this research you're so determined to put in, you're gonna be writin' great stories some day, Mary-Beth. I can't wait to read 'em. Let me know next time you're ready to take some more notes, okay?"

Mary-Beth flashed her a dazzling smile, a blush creeping up into her cheeks. "Thank you…"

Arthur smirked, hooking his thumbs into his belt and shifting his weight as Willa moved beside him, draining the last of the coffee in her cup. They moved off towards Pearson's chuck wagon so she could toss the dish into the washtub. "Well?"

"Well, this garden party or what-have-ya ain't 'til tomorrow night. Feel like takin' a trip into the city?"

They made their way past the chuck wagon and around the large ornate fountain that decorated the front yard of the plantation house. "Sure, if it means we can go snoop on my brother."

"Well, let's just go and see-"

"Mr. Morgan!" They both turned to see Susan Grimshaw striding forward towards them, an envelope clutched in her hand. "Before you run off again, got some mail came for you."

Arthur's brows rose in surprise, but by the tight line of her mouth and the squinty, suspicious look in Grimshaw's eyes, he automatically knew who that letter was from without even having to look at it. Mary. He grunted and nodded his head in thanks, taking the letter from her and hastily stuffing it into his satchel. Mary could wait.

Grimshaw eyed him shrewdly for a few more seconds before crossing her arms and turning to walk away. Willa cocked an eyebrow, but he just shook his head and started walking again. She sighed, taking a few quick steps to catch back up with Arthur as they made their way to where the horses were tethered.

Willa came up beside Tulip, cooing and rubbing her neck. "Hey my girl, how'd you fare in that storm last night, huh?" The mare whinnied softly, shaking her head back and forth as if to say it really hadn't been that fun. Willa reached over into the saddlebag, pulling out a peppermint and slipping it to the animal before reaching back in to pull out her skirt. Once she had it on and buttoned up, she strapped her gun belt back on and hauled herself up into the saddle.

Arthur was already mounted and waiting for her when she turned Tulip around towards the road. He encouraged Llamrei into a trot, glancing back when Willa spoke up from behind him.

"Hey…wanna race?"

He blinked, a sly smirk curling up one corner of his mouth. He rolled his head back to better peer at her out of the corner of his eye. "Well now, Miss Thorne, what makes you think you'd be able to compete?"

Her eyes narrowed as she urged Tulip up alongside Rei. Not being one to forego a smug reply, she shot back. "Why, this here's a Fox Trotter I'm ridin', Mr. Morgan. They're a fast breed, and we been with each other a long time. Me and Tulip, we've run away from a _lot_ of things together."

Arthur scoffed, idly reaching down to tighten one of his saddle straps. After a moment he straightened up, resting his palms on the saddle horn and flexing his arms, arching his back in a good stretch. "Alright. This girl probably needs to be put through her paces, anyway."

He leaned down over the front of the saddle horn, brushing one hand down Rei's mane and whispering something into the mare's flicking ear. Before Willa even realized what was happening, he'd bucked his heels and cracked the horse's reigns, urging her off into a gallop and leaving Willa eating dust.

"Arthur, you son of a bitch!" She let out a bark of frustration and spurred Tulip into swift action, hoping she hadn't lost too much time behind him.

Arthur wound around a bend in the road, smirking to himself as he heard the dull thud of hoof beats approaching from behind. He hadn't really gotten the chance to see just how fast Rei could go yet, and he had to admit he was curious. "C'mon girl!" He bucked his feet a few more times, urging her around another bend and over a few wooden bridges that dotted the marshland they were riding through.

Arthur pulled up on the reigns just before they hit the big bridge that led into the city, lowering a hand to give Rei's neck a few good, solid pats. "Good girl! That's _real_ good work!"

Willa was only just behind him, and Tulip skidded to a stop a few feet away. "Arthur, you cheater!"

He chuckled, taking the reigns back up to guide Rei onto the bridge. "Miss Thorne, I _am_ an outlaw by trade. Never said I was gonna play fair wit' you."

She huffed, but couldn't help a smile turning up the corner of her mouth despite herself. "Well you still don't get to count that as a win. But…Rei is pretty fast, I gotta hand it to her. She's a good horse, Arthur."

He hummed in agreement, rubbing the mare's shoulder affectionately as they made their way into the streets of St. Denis. "Sure. She carried me all the way back from that O'Driscoll camp when I was just about dead. I'd say she's a hell of a lot better'n just good."

Willa fell silent, watching him unconsciously roll his shoulder at the very thought of that ordeal. She knew he was just about back to normal, but a gunshot wound like the one he'd suffered – not to mention his having to cauterize it, and then make his escape all by himself – had to have left its impression upon the man. "You're right. She is a hell of a lot better."

Arthur responded with a firm nod. "So…listen, I'm all for doin' some snoopin' around wit' you, but I gotta say…might be better to wait 'til after this party to make any serious plans."

"Why's that?"

"If Bronte's gonna be there, there's a good chance your brother might be there with him. Somethin' tells me Bronte ain't the type of fella to let go of a man could be useful to him for somethin' as triflin' as takin' a few boys that don't belong to him."

She chewed her lip for a few moments. "I guess I get that. And since _we_ killed most of his men, he's probably gonna be fawnin' after Bronte's protection…probably pissed as hell, trying to figure out who double-crossed him."

"Arthur!"

They both brought their horses to a stop in the middle of the street, Willa's fingers twitching for her pistol. Arthur, on the other hand, felt a tightness instantly lock up his chest at hearing that voice from one of the balconies up above them. _Mary_. Shit.

"Arthur! Up here!"

He screwed his eyes shut for just a moment, taking a deep breath before looking over at Wilhelmina. She looked confused, gazing up at the woman on the balcony. "C'mon. Let's uh…just hitch up here for a minute."

Willa blinked, her gaze lowering. She guided Tulip over to a hitching post beside where Arthur was already dismounting, sliding out of the saddle and fixing her skirts a bit before remembering she was still wearing her gun belt. She hastily undid the clip and slid it off to stuff it into the saddlebag.

"You came!"

Arthur looked up at the balcony, flexing his hands at his sides anxiously. "I didn't-"

"Wait there! I'm comin' straight down!"

Arthur rolled his eyes, trying to take one more deep, steadying breath before turning to look at Wilhelmina again. She was looking like she'd fit a few puzzle pieces together in the last few minutes, and he hated himself at that very moment for the pensive frown that had appeared on her face. "You were…comin' into town to see Mary?"

He immediately put his hands up, taking a step towards her. "No! No, 'course not. I didn't…that letter…I didn't know she'd-"

"Arthur!" The brunette that had beckoned to him from the balcony rushed down the steps of the hotel they stood in front of, her beautiful gold and brown plaid skirts bunched up in either hand as she hurried down the sidewalk.

Arthur deflated slightly and whipped around to face her as she stopped in front of him.

Willa tried to swallow down the lump that had suddenly formed in her throat. Mary was beautiful; her hair was done up in a perfect little back-knot, her dress was exquisite, she held herself up straight and tall as proper girls from wealthy households were raised to do.

She looked down at herself; a stiff, dried out blouse that had been soaked in rain the previous night, a skirt that had mud drying around the hem, and probably a few bloodstains, too. Dirty, dust-caked boots. Her hair was a loose tangle of knots she hadn't even thought about trying to brush out earlier that morning; she'd been far too preoccupied with the man whose attention she was currently not holding onto very well. She heaved in a heavy breath, rolling the cuffs of her sleeves down to hide one or two of the small scars that were visible on her arms.

"Hello, Mary…"

"You came!"

"Whenever you've called for me, I've come. But, listen Mary, I-"

"Oh, Arthur…" Willa caught Mary peeping at her around Arthur's shoulder. "Who's this?"

Arthur hitched in a breath, half-turning between the two women. "Mary, this is Miss Wilhelmina Thorne. Wilhelmina, Mary Linton." Arthur tried puff his chest out a bit, show _some_ kind of confidence, trying not to be so transparent about how disastrously embarrassed he felt about this entire situation.

The corner of Mary's mouth quirked up into a cautious half-smile and she bowed her head slightly at the other woman.

Willa's tongue darted out to wet her dry lips as she glanced up at Arthur, then back to Mary. "It's a…pleasure to meet you, Missus Linton."

Mary nodded once more, her own eyes shifting back to Arthur for a moment. "I didn't know you'd be…bringing one of the folks from that gang of yours with you, Arthur…"

"Oh, well, she ain't exactly-"

Willa cleared her throat, steeling herself under Mary's scrutiny. It was fairly obvious there was _something_ she wanted from Arthur, and though Willa felt like one of those St. Denis street urchins in comparison to the woman that stood before her, she was not about to be intimidated. "I'm familiar with them, Missus Linton, but I'm still an outsider. Same as you."

Mary's mouth pinched at the comparison, but she didn't respond. She exhaled a dainty little sigh instead, wringing her hands in front of herself and gazing back at Arthur with those doe eyes of hers. "Oh…"

"What's wrong, Mary?"

Mary looked away down the street, a worried frown pulling at her features. "It's daddy…"

"Your father!?" Arthur rolled his eyes and shook his head, immediately turned and started to reach for Wilhelmina's arm to lead her back to the horses. "I'm a bigger fool than I thought for even askin'…"

"I'm beggin' you, Arthur!"

He came to a stop, bowing his head and heaving out a sigh. "Can you just…give us a minute?" he asked her over his shoulder before taking Willa gently by the elbow and leading her over to the horses.

"Arthur, she seems-"

"Yeah, I know how she seems. Her father's a bastard. I just…" He sighed out another breath, reaching up to pinch the bridge of his nose in exasperation. "I'm probably about to lose my temper, and I'd prefer if you didn't see it. Is there…do you mind if I meet up wit' you somewhere later? I'm sorry to do this, I know how it…how much of a fool I am to even be askin'-"

Willa shook her head, hooking one foot up into a stirrup. "You told me I could trust you, Arthur. She...seems like she needs help, and I can only assume that letter was her askin' for it. So help her. I'll be over at Doyle's Tavern. I ain't kicked this hangover yet, so I might as well go get some more hair of the dog that bit me…"

He let out a soft chuckle, looking up at her with a rather astonished fondness in his eyes. He had been sure she would have stormed off in a fury, but instead he only found himself impressed by Wilhelmina's steadfastness. Arthur placed a hand on Tulip's hip after she'd mounted up, lingering for a few extra moments. "I'll meet up wit' you as soon as I can."

Willa gave him a nod, guiding the Fox Trotter to turn and head down the street. As she passed Mary, she gave the woman one final nod. "Good luck with your father, Missus Linton."

At least Mary was kind enough to give her a thank you before she kept moving. Willa sighed once she'd rounded a corner, bunching her hands on the saddle horn and leaning down over Tulip's neck. The sigh quickly turned into a plaintive groan. She didn't know if this was a good idea or not.

She remembered everything Arthur had told her about Mary that night he'd shown up at Hani's Bethel, how he thought they were like magnets. She remembered the soft, strained tone of his voice, the way his eyes had shone in the glow from the fire. But even though he and Willa had shared some incredibly sentimental moments in the last 24 hours, she knew she shouldn't allow herself to feel jealous.

Arthur wasn't hers. Ignorant as she was on the subject of love, she'd read enough of the Bard to know what jealousy would get her. Just look at Othello; maybe a bit dramatic, what with everyone dead at the end, but a standard worth keeping in mind all the same. No, Arthur was her friend more than anything. She wanted him to be happy. She desperately wanted him to find _something_ that could overcome that fatal loyalty he carried for Dutch van der Linde. And if it wasn't to be her, well, she'd just about come to always expect the worst anyway. This wouldn't be much different.

Willa hitched Tulip around the corner from Doyle's and made her way into the small dive, puffing her cheeks and trying to run her fingers through her hair to give it some kind of a brushing. She elbowed open the double doors, surprised when she looked up to see the saloon virtually empty. A lone gentleman stood at the bar, and he glanced up as she walked over.

"Hey, _mademoiselle_ , buy me a drink _s'il vous plait_? Please, _mon cher_?"

She raised an eyebrow and planted her hands on her hips. A French fella. And a desperate one too, if he had to ask a woman to buy his drinks for him. He had a ridiculous goatee, and she wasn't sure, but Willa almost thought he might be wearing a touch of makeup around his eyes. Finally, she nodded her chin up at him in a little gesture of agreement. At least this might prove a distraction. "Alright then. What are you drinkin?"

"Brandy!" The little Frenchman gave her a grin and slapped his hand down on the bar.

Wilhelmina looked up and nodded towards the bartender. "Brandy and a whiskey please, sir."

The barman squatted to get down at the glasses beneath the bar. "Two dollars a glass, miss…"

"Yeesh. Better be good stuff, then." She slid some coins onto the counter as he stood up and placed two shot glasses down in front of them. He grabbed the two bottles and poured both shots at the same time, looking at her smugly.

"It's the best."

She afforded the barman a withering smile before reaching out to pluck up the shot.

The French fella turned to her, holding up his glass to clink it against hers. "Thank you, _Chérie_. _Santé_."

Willa cheered the man and tossed back the shot, the whiskey burning a hot trail down her throat. She grit her teeth and wheezed slightly, setting the little glass back down on the bar.

"Ah, whiskey. How very American of you!"

"Yeah, I'm American all right. I got no idea what you're sayin' to me, sir. What's a seevoo plate?"

"Hah!" The Frenchman slapped his hand on the counter again and motioned to the barman for another drink. Willa did the same, sliding four more coins across the bar.

"Your ignorance is a breath of fresh air, _jeune fille. S'il vous plait_ is what we say in France when those of your superior sex are wise enough to turn lecherous animals like me out of their beds!"

Willa barked out a genuine laugh at that, leaning against the bar on one elbow and picking up her second shot of whiskey. "So you aren't from St. Denis? You're actually _from_ France?"

The Frenchman grunted and nodded, downing his brandy and slamming the little glass back down on the bar. "That smelly, filthy place with old buildings and ghosts and shit and French people? They might as well be the same place, _mon cher!"_

She laughed again, nodding in acquiescence and raising her glass in his direction before downing the shot. "I guess so," she hissed out, shaking her head slightly.

"You know, eh…?" The man reached his hand out towards her in a questioning gesture, trying to get her name.

"Wilhelmina." She extended her own hand out, taken a bit by surprise when he scooped it up and brought it to his lips to kiss her knuckles.

"Charles…" He let go of her hand, leaning forward on his own elbow conspiratorially. "You know, Wilhelmina, _chéri_ …according to the salons of Paris I cannot draw, I cannot paint, and I should go away. Don't believe in art. It's _lies._ Believe in women – in _yourself_ – you are the _truth_. Art is lies! But the vagina… _that_ is truth!"

She blinked, not sure whether she should laugh again or slap him across the face.

"That being said, I would absolutely _love_ to paint your portrait, _mon ange._ Art, it's for idiots and, how you say, 'whole asses'…which I am both of, wholeheartedly." 

Arthur strode back into the alley where he'd last left Mary, her mother's brooch safely tucked away into his pocket. Of course they'd ended up chasing her old scoundrel of a father halfway across the city, and then he'd had to chase the damn pawn man who bought Mrs. Gillis' heirloom practically halfway to Van Horn to boot. This whole adventure had taken much longer already than he ever meant it to, and worst of all, he couldn't help falling into that familiar push and pull that Mary exerted on him.

He wasn't sure if he'd ever noticed it before though, how much she talked down to him. Her constant mercurial shifts between showering him in praise - sweet little reminders of what their life used to be, and what it could be again - and sour little jabs at his attitude, his cleanliness, his life choices. As if he'd ever really had a choice.

"Where's your father?"

Her gaze rose to meet his from where she sat on a crate against the backside of a brick building. "I don't know."

Arthur splayed his hands in frustration. "Well you want me to go find him again?"

She shook her head, sounding rather dejected. "Not really."

"Well, let's take a walk. I'll take you to the trolley."

"Thank you." She stood and they made their way back toward the street. On the way, Arthur handed over the brooch (he noted that he didn't even get a true thank you for that, just an 'I won't ask').

"I've missed you…"

"Don't start."

She glanced over at him, hands tucked together daintily in front of herself. "You're an idiot…but you'll always be my friend."

"Well of course I'm your friend," he replied, stopping so that he could turn and face Mary. "But you ain't always fair with me."

"If I was fair with you, and a good person, I'd have had you hanged a long time ago."

"Well…that's true."

"So, shut up and act like a gentleman…" She took him by his elbow, trying to move it so that she could tuck her own arm in there. "Or at least try to, for once in your brainless life."

He huffed out a sigh, shaking his head and glancing away from her as they continued walking toward where the trolley waited at the corner. All of a sudden, all he could hear was Wilhelmina's voice in his head. _I don't want you to be nothin' other than who you are, Arthur Morgan. If you're lookin' for somebody who's gonna justify all them nasty things you say about yourself, well it ain't me. Bein' with you is like bein' protected. Safe._ No calling him an idiot, or brainless, or too sarcastic. He was actually quite sure she rather _liked_ his sarcasm.

All of a sudden Mary's hand slipped out from the crook of his arm and found its way onto his shoulder, pressing insistently to regain his attention. He blinked and looked down at where she'd moved in front of him, blocking his path. "Is it too late for us, Arthur?"

"Mary…"

"Run away with me! Run away right now, and don't look back."

Arthur exhaled a sigh, shaking his head and taking a gentle step back from her. "I can't, Mary. Just like you couldn't marry me and I couldn't change and so on and so forth, I just _cannot_."

She bit her lip, her hand dropping from where it had still been lingering in the empty air. "Okay…"

"I missed you for a long time. But we're different, you and me. All that…it's gotta be done now."

"Okay..." Her eyes fell to the ground and she hurried past him, bunching her skirts up into her hands to mount the trolley steps. She paused there, one foot a step above the other, to turn back towards him. "I wish…somehow it weren't..."

"Be well, Mary." Arthur turned away from the trolley. From the woman he'd been madly in love with for a decade and a half. Things were changing. Their relationship had always been one of extremes, burning like fire one minute and cold as a grave the next. But he'd never noticed back in Valentine how she only seemed to be truly kind to him when she _needed_ something from him. And it just so happened that what she needed could usually be readily accomplished by a gruff, intimidating outlaw who would just as soon shoot somebody as ask them to nicely hand back a younger brother, or a priceless family heirloom. She only seemed to need him to be exactly the things she criticized him for, and it was emotionally exhausting.

Arthur sighed as he hauled himself up into Llamrei's saddle, closing his eyes and letting his head hang for a moment. It had hurt like hell to say those things. There was no way it couldn't, even if he knew it was for the best. Mary had such a huge part of him for such a long time, he almost found himself reeling at the sense of loss it left him with. But he couldn't sit there in the middle of the street in St. Denis feeling sorry. He had to get back to Wilhelmina. He needed to.

When he finally made his way to Doyle's Tavern, he rounded the corner and spotted Tulip at one of the hitching posts. Relief washed away some of the somber mood he was feeling, and he found himself clinging to it. She'd waited for him. The significance of that thought made an entirely different feeling bloom in his chest, and he hastily slid down from his saddle and marched around the corner toward the little saloon.

Willa was sitting right there at the bar, a handful of almonds clutched in her palm. He could see even from back where he was standing that her face had a flush to it; she'd been here for a while, after all, and he really couldn't blame her for passing the time by drinking it away.

"So this fella I know, he says, 'I can't do that! I got lumbago! It's a _real_ serious condition!" She burst into a few tipsy giggles and the barman – who happened to be her only audience – offered her a chuckle and a nod, busying himself with wiping out glasses.

She glanced towards the doors as she heard them slam shut, and Arthur's heart just about leapt into his throat when he saw the smile bloom on her face. "Arthur!"

He reached up to pull the hat from his head and strode wordlessly over to the bar, stopping only inches away and using his foot to rotate the stool she sat on so that she was facing him. Willa started laughing again, her brows furrowing slightly in confusion. Before she could ask what he thought he was doing, he'd tossed his hat down onto the counter and brought his hands up to cradle her cheeks, leaning in to press his lips to hers with a slow fervor even he hadn't quite been expecting.

The bartender raised his eyebrows, letting out a low whistle and turning to walk away.

Willa sighed, smiling against his lips and he couldn't help smiling back when he heard the sound of the almonds rattling across the counter as she let them slip from her hand. Momentarily he felt that hand pressing to his collar, nails dragging against the fabric of his shirt as she clutched at it.

When he finally pulled away from her to catch his breath, he watched as she languidly opened her eyes to look up at him. Smiling, she half-whispered. "You came."

He leaned against the bar, his brows drawing down. "Course I did. You think I wasn't?"

She gave a small shrug, scooping up a piece of paper from the counter and sliding off the stool. "Yes and no, I guess. Didn't really know what to expect."

The corner of Arthur's mouth quirked. "I'm sorry. I got led off into a wild goose chase to get her back her dead momma's jewelry, and…" He sighed, reaching up to scratch the back of his neck. "I had some words with her."

Willa tilted her head, quirking an eyebrow up at him.

"Told her we…it, whatever we had, was all done. Saw her off to the trolley and said goodbye…"

Willa sighed, digging around in her pockets for two more coins to toss onto the counter before reaching all the way over and grabbing the bottle of whiskey to pour him a drink. Since the barman had made himself scarce, she figured it was the least she could do. "I'm sorry, Arthur." She finished pouring and held the glass out to him. "That must have been...real hard."

He blinked and shook his head, chuckling slightly. He took the glass from her and downed it, grimacing slightly at the burn it left in its wake. "That's real sweet of you to say, Miss Thorne. But you got absolutely nothin' to be sorry about. It was a long time comin'. Say, what you got there?"

His eyes had fallen to the paper she had placed back down on the bar. He could see it was a drawing, and it had piqued his interest. He also didn't want to keep talking about Mary, even though he thought it was impossibly sweet that Willa had the decency to offer her sympathy.

Willa's eyes widened and she scooped the paper back up, holding it up to show it to him. It was a rather hasty sketch of her, leaning up against that very bar with her head resting on one hand. "I met the weirdest Frenchman earlier! He told me that art was lies, and then asked if he could paint me naked. And then I told him he could piss up a rope, but then he just laughed at me and said he wanted to pay me back for the drinks I bought him, so he just doodled this instead."

They had started walking toward the door as she talked, and Arthur took the drawing to examine it when she held it out towards him. It wasn't half bad. Arthur chuckled at her story, shaking his head. "The folks in this city…I swear. Well I appreciate that you had the decency not to run off wit' him, Miss Thorne."

She smirked, elbowing open the door and walking out into the sunlight with Arthur beside her. "'Course not. I got an artist right here, although _this_ one ain't so decent as to actually show me the pictures he draws of me." She eyed him sideways as they rounded the corner to where the horses were tethered.

Arthur sighed. "I guess I could, if you really think you need to see 'em that bad." He extended the drawing out to her, and she shook her head.

"Nah, you keep it if you want. Don't know what I'd do walkin' around with a picture of myself, anyways. Seems kind of odd, doesn't it? And I'd love to see your drawings, Arthur." She stopped beside Tulip, putting a hand on the mare's shoulder. "Really."

He allowed a small smirk to cross his features, folding up the little drawing and tucking it into his satchel before sticking a foot in Rei's stirrup and pulling himself up into the saddle. "Alright then. Let's head back to camp and maybe I'll let you have a look."

She flashed him another smile as she mounted up, pleasantly abuzz with liquor and his renewed presence. Charles, that odd French artist, had been a decent enough distraction from her anxieties about Arthur and Mary being alone together, but it did nothing to compare to the way her chest flooded with relief upon seeing him walk into that bar. She couldn't help glancing over to him every once in a while on the way back to Shady Belle, letting her mind wander about what exactly had gone on with him and Mary. She didn't want to pry, didn't think it was her place to, but she couldn't quite wrap her mind around the fact that he had put Mary on that trolley and sent her on her way in favor of coming back to meet a dirty drifter who'd tucked herself away into a bar to drink away her anxieties.

His voice knocked her out of her thoughts. "Hey. Rematch?" He put his hands up in a conciliatory gesture. "Fair race this time. I swear."

She chewed her lip for a moment before giving him a nod and another crooked smile. "Alright. You got yourself a rematch, Morgan."


	12. Shady Belle - Those in Glass Houses

**THE NEXT EVENING**

"We'll meet you out on the balcony when you're done." Hosea and Bill broke off from Arthur and Dutch as they made their way through the mayor's lavish mansion. The other two made for the double doors that opened out onto said balcony as Arthur found himself being led up a set of carpeted stairs to the second floor.

He fidgeted uncomfortably in the suit he was wearing. Felt about as tight as Bill's suit looked on him; Arthur wasn't much for fancy dress, but even _he_ knew Bill looked like an utter disaster. Wasn't even sure why Dutch had invited him on this little outing to begin with.

They'd had to go buy the suits at the tailor's before they made their way to the party, and the shop had simply not had anything left that was cut to Bill's measurements. What they had now was the best the unfortunate tailor had been able to do, and it was regrettable. Arthur shook his head and muttered to himself as he followed Dutch up the stairs, picking at the cuff of one of his sleeves.

The servant who was leading them opened a set of double doors that led to a second floor balcony, standing aside to let Dutch and then Arthur pass through into the stiflingly warm night air.

"Ah! The angry cowboys, you've arrived! And you've washed!" Arthur heard Bronte mumbling something in Italian to one of his cohorts out on the balcony and clenched his fists at his sides. He kept a respectful pace behind Dutch as they made their way over to the small gaggle of men.

Dutch reached out to shake Bronte's hand, fawning over the elegantly dressed guests that mingled below them, drinking their expensive champagne and smoking their huge cigars. Bronte proceeded to mockingly point out a few of the more important ones, making sure to provide the two men with scathing details regarding all the things he hated about those particular people.

"And that is Hector Fellowes! The self-righteous newspaperman…" Bronte glanced over at Dutch, waving his own cigar around. "Maybe, you will kill him for me one day?"

Dutch swung his head to give Bronte a sideways look before turning to face him fully, huffing out the smallest chortle as he did so. "Well, we're not paid killers as such, not in cold blood anyway…"

Bronte's good humor seemed to falter slightly. "I did not know you were so particular that uh…you wouldn't help a friend."

"Oh, I'm willing to help in any way I can…within reason."

Bronte squinted, tilting his head ever so slightly at the taller man. Finally he smiled, waving the hand holding the cigar. "Well, no matter. I've already got someone else, eh…looking into it. You might remember, the men I sent your flunkies after."

Arthur's eyes narrowed. He'd been hanging back, letting Dutch do his usual charming and scheming, but he couldn't help a sharp intake of breath at the mention of Wilhelmina's brother.

Dutch nodded; he was still ignorant of that connection. "Oh yes, I remember quite clearly."

Bronte sighed, turning to cast his gaze back out over the crowd beneath them. "All these vulgar people…they hate me." He leaned over the railing and waved, saying something awfully cheerful to them in Italian.

Dutch spoke up from behind where Bronte and his men had descended into peals of condescending laughter at whatever he'd said. "Well, uh, it has been wonderful conversing with you. But I can tell that you are very busy and I won't waste any more of your time."

"Yes yes yes, go, enjoy yourselves and mingle with these vulgar scum. It'll make you long for the days when you could shoot each other and screw cows out on the open range." Bronte's lackeys burst into laughter again.

Dutch's face faltered momentarily. Keeping his anger in check, he simply nodded and replied caustically, "those were the days…good day, gentlemen." He strode off purposefully toward the double doors leading back into the mansion.

"Good day to you. But before you go, what exactly are your plans here?"

Dutch stopped, slowly turning back around to face Bronte. "We've not made any. Well…we are going to need some money."

"Money…yes, of course. Well, there's money at the trolley station. They keep a lot of cash there in the day. Be my guest!"

After a few more words, Dutch and Arthur were led back inside the mansion and down the stairs by that same butler from before. The man stopped and extended his arm toward the balcony doors, and Arthur followed Dutch outside to meet up with Hosea and Bill. He pressed his hands to the railing of the balcony, eyes scanning the crowd for that Fellowes fella. If Everett Thorne was trying to ingratiate himself back into Bronte's good graces, he'd probably be mingling somewhere close by the newspaperman.

"Go and find the mayor if you can, and stay outta trouble. And steal _nothin'_ …unless it's information."

Arthur blinked and looked over at Dutch when he realized he was being spoken to. Shit. He knew he should be focusing on Dutch's plans, paying attention to the man with his usual zeal and respect. But he had promised Willa he would keep an eye out for her brother tonight, and he had every intention of doing so. Getting Everett out of the picture could be beneficial to the gang anyway, if he had designs on Bronte's powerful position in the city. In Arthur's opinion, that idea seemed like an absurd fantasy; almost like something Dutch would have cooked up if they weren't trying to keep their noses so close to the ground.

Wilhelmina had found herself distracted with the gang and with him, it seemed (although he was still having trouble wrapping his head around everything that had happened in the last few days), but her desire to be rid of her brother hadn't waned in the slightest. He knew what came of revenge; had felt the hollowness it left him with after he'd hunted down the bandits that murdered Eliza and Isaac all those years ago. In the heat of the moment it felt righteous, satisfying. But the aftermath was one of dreadful little healing or penance.

He knew the only way Willa was going to let herself get closure was by ridding the world of her brother, but he also knew that it would do precious little to heal those wounds of hers that were still bleeding. It wouldn't bring back her sister, or her father, or her own innocence. Arthur also knew she was smart enough to realize that, and that she didn't care, and that he would still go to very great lengths indeed to help her kill him.

If that meant having to pull some double duty, so be it. He nodded at Dutch. "Of course." Moving off toward the magnificent balustrade that curved down to the ground level, Arthur made his way down into the party. He wove his way between little clusters of people, trying to pick out fragments of conversations, smiling and nodding as he passed folks.

Just after he'd saved one poor fella from choking on a nut, he happened to overhear hushed voices coming from off to his left. Knowing full well hushed voices were usually the incriminating kind, he stood by the table and grabbed a handful of those nuts, trying to make himself inconspicuous. Arthur leaned his hip against the table, popping a cashew into his mouth.

"You talk to Fellowes yet?"

"No, not yet. He's still got those other fellas circled around him like vultures. I still don't understand why we're doin' this, Everett. Bronte _must_ have been the one set us up. Why the hell are we even still here?"

" _Because_ he set us up, Cliff. That stuck-up piece of shit ain't gettin' away with it. He cost me almost six hundred dollars, _and_ just about the whole goddamn gang! So we keep doin' his dirty work for a little bit longer…kill that newspaper fella…get us a new gang, and then take out that greasy bastard."

Arthur dumped some more cashews into his mouth, commenting to a gentleman beside him how they just hit the spot. He wiped his hands against each other and turned to grab a few more from the bowl on the table, cautiously trying to eyeball the two men out of the corner of his eye as he did so.

Arthur recognized Everett Thorne immediately. He was dressed in a dark charcoal-gray suit, and sporting mutton chops and a mustache now instead of that goatee he'd worn back at the Downes Ranch. The chops did something to help hide some of the scar on his face, but Arthur could still pick it out readily enough. The man beside him was taller and rather lanky, with dirty blonde hair parted at the side and slicked down with pomade. He was bookish, too; had a pair of round spectacles perched on his nose. That must be Clifford.

Arthur tossed the rest of the cashews into his mouth and wiped his hands again, deciding not to linger too long. He cast a cautious glance around before wiping his hands off on his suit pants for good measure, turning away from the table and deciding to try for finding the mayor.

He wandered over toward a large fountain in the middle of the sprawling grounds, where he found Mayor Lemieux amidst a few other men. One of them was a drunken bigot, so Arthur used the opportunity to win the mayor's favor by 'escorting' him away. When he returned, Arthur received a handshake for his trouble and managed to get a few words in before a loud bang broke the little group apart.

They all turned to look up as other folks around the party started oohing and ahhing at the fireworks that had started showering the sky in bright bursts of color. Arthur's jaw dropped a little bit at the sight. He had certainly seen them a time or two before, but the sheer spectacle of it had never failed to impress him. He couldn't help wishing Willa was there to see it.

Hearing mention of the name Cornwall off to his right caught his attention, and he glanced over to see the mayor speaking with one of his butlers. Suddenly Dutch was beside him, telling him to find out exactly what they were talking about.

So he found himself following the butler back into the mansion, and up those stairs to the second floor again. Arthur cautiously peered from behind the corner at the top of the stairs as the butler opened the first door in the hallway and stepped into an office. He put some paperwork into the drawer of a desk, closing and locking it before stepping away.

Arthur stayed put for a few more minutes, listening keenly for anyone that might have been coming or going. Satisfied that all seemed quiet, he made his way around the corner and dipped into that room, going straight for the letter opener that sat on the desk so he could jimmy open the drawer.

He pulled the document out and inspected it for a few moments. "Mr. Leviticus Cornwall…top secret…extremely confidential. Very interesting…"

"I'd sure say it's interesting."

Arthur hastily jammed the piece of paper into the breast of his suit jacket before turning around to face whoever had found him. Everett Thorne stood leaning in the doorway, his shoulder propped against the doorframe. A sly smirk appeared on his face as he uncrossed his arms, leisurely stepping inside and gently kicking the door shut with his foot.

"I saw you, down at the party. Thought to myself, 'now I know I seen that fella _somewhere_ before'. Took me a few minutes, but I figured it out." He casually strode further into the room, tucking his hands into his pockets. Everett stopped, rocking on the balls of his feet once or twice before turning and looking back up at Arthur. "How's my dear little sister?"

Arthur's jaw worked. He cautiously placed his hands on the desk, leaning forward ever so slightly. "I got no clue what you're talkin' about, sir."

Everett chuckled. "I don't often forget about a man who tries to _shoot_ me. Let's try it again. The Downes Ranch? About, oh, three months ago now?"

Arthur's mouth twitched and he tried to feign a dawning realization. He stood back up straight, nodding to himself. "Ah, yeah. Yeah, I remember now. I was collectin' a debt from those folks. Don't know you, or your sister. But you stood to get in the way of my money. Sorry. Nothin' personal…"

"Hm. Nothin' personal, huh?" He gazed at Arthur shrewdly. "So how is it, I happen to run into you again all the way down here in St. Denis?" He nodded towards Arthur briefly. "All cleaned up, consortin' with _my_ employer?"

Arthur shrugged. He leaned his hip against the desk, making sure not to stray too far from that letter opener. He'd use it if he needed to. Not that he didn't think he could strangle the life out of the slimy little asshole with his bare hands; but, it's always good to have a backup. "My associate, the fella I collect those debts for, he's got some business down here. Ain't tryin' to step on nobody's toes. I'd say you're readin' a bit too much into simple coincidence, uh…"

"Everett Thorne. And you are?"

"Arthur Callahan."

"Your associate…that van der Linde fella, right? I spoke with him earlier. Seemed awfully curious about what's goin' on in this city. Askin' about the trolley station..." Everett eyed Arthur carefully, his voice lowering. "You boys wouldn't be plannin' on robbin' it, would ya?"

Arthur's eyes narrowed. "We ain't robbin' anywhere, friend. Like I said, he's got some business down here. I think that's all you need to know. Now, if you'll excuse me, I think we been in here chattin' just about long enough." Arthur moved towards the door, muscles tensed, wondering if Everett was going to make any sort of move against him.

"Well if by any chance you are, tell Mr. van der Linde it ain't a good idea. My employer, Signor Bronte, he's a crook and a charlatan. Let's just say I've heard tell from some of his men that there's a gang of cowboys in town with some…dubious motives. He recommends _anything_ to you, he's settin' you up."

Arthur paused with his hand extended to the doorknob, briefly turning back towards Everett. "Why you tellin' me this?"

Everett shrugged, hands still stuffed casually in his suit pockets. "Call it a gesture of good will. No hard feelings about bein' shot at."

Arthur's jaw worked. He knew Everett must have some sort of an angle, but at the moment he just couldn't quite figure out what it was. Bronte's enthusiasm about the trolley station _had_ seemed like an awful convenient recommendation; almost too much so, even Arthur himself had noticed that. But he was starting to wonder if Dutch had.

Arthur nodded to Everett, turning the knob and opening the door. "Well, I appreciate the warning. Unwarranted, but appreciated all the same. Have yourself a good evening, Mr. Thorne. And uh…sorry again about takin' a shot at you. Just tryin' to do my job…"

Arthur left the office and made his way back downstairs quickly, checking behind a few times to make sure Everett wasn't coming after him. He wanted to ask Dutch what exactly the man had said to him, but he knew he should wait. After he met back up with the other three and shared some of the information they'd managed to come by, he heard Dutch mention the trolley station again and assumed Everett either hadn't told him it was a setup, or Dutch genuinely didn't believe it if he had.

He also had to hope Everett hadn't actually seen him taking that letter from Cornwall. Not that it had anything to do with Bronte or Everett Thorne, but Arthur had to be wary all the same. When Dutch had asked him if anyone had seen him take it, Arthur had replied with an "I don't think so," and hoped to hell that was still true.

When the boys rode back in to Shady Belle, Lenny pulled the wagon off to the side and hopped down from the driver's seat, immediately loosening his bowtie around his neck. Even just being the driver, Dutch had still insisted he dress the part. He was just about to head toward the tents when he felt a hand on his back. He turned to see Arthur.

"Thanks for drivin' us, kid. Sorry you had to go through that whole charade."

Lenny's mouth quirked, but he gave Arthur a nod. He couldn't fault the man for a genuine feeling of sympathy at the role of a lowly coach driver. "Anything for the cause. You fellas get any leads while you was in there?"

Arthur nodded, clapping the boy's back before removing his hand and falling in to step beside him. "Oh, I think so. Sounds like Dutch is cookin' somethin' up as we speak."

They parted ways once they reached the front yard of the house, Dutch and Hosea splitting off to go inside and Lenny going over to his tent to change out of his suit. Bill immediately went for one of the whiskey crates by the campfire, and Arthur made his way out behind the house. Wilhelmina had set her tent up off to the right out back, just behind the dilapidated old livestock barn and the dog house that Cain was prone to cramming himself into every once in a while.

He walked over to the tent, noting the dull glow of a lantern lit up within. He heard stirring in there as he approached, and the flap was pulled aside to reveal Wilhelmina's narrow face, hair loose around her shoulders and that old cavalry hat tipped back on her head. Her face lit up at the sight of him. And almost as suddenly dropped into a look of…disappointment?

Arthur stopped, blinking and glancing back over both shoulders. He cleared his throat and reached up to scratch the back of his neck. "What?"

"I just…sorry." She scoffed at herself, looking down and shaking her head. She clambered out of the tent and stood up to her full height, reaching up to gently rub some stray dust from the lapel of his suit jacket. "You clean up real nice and all, but I sorta think a gun belt suits you better'n a cummerbund..."

He smirked and let out a chuckle. "I am wholeheartedly inclined to agree wit' you, Miss Thorne…" He glanced around again before dipping down to press a gentle kiss to her lips. She flattened her hand against his broad chest, feeling the heartbeat underneath. She could taste the faintest hint of champagne on his lips.

With Mary being such a recent resurgence, he wondered how she would have reacted to seeing him all dolled up. Probably the exact opposite way that Willa was. He found himself preferring this; preferring to be acknowledged for who he really was - even if it was just about the clothes he wore - and not chided into trying to be something he never could.

They broke apart a moment later and Willa crossed her arms, ready to get down to business. "So…what happened?"

Arthur inhaled a large breath, not even sure where to start. "Well, your brother was there."

Her eyes widened. "And?"

"And, so was that partner of his, Clifford, right? Didn't get the pleasure of meetin' him, but your brother nearly caught me stealin' some top secret papers from the Mayor's office…"

Willa's brows drew down. She chewed her lip, silently waiting for him to continue.

"Bronte basically told us outright that we should rob the trolley station. When your brother found me, I…well, I _think_ I convinced him I didn't know you, told him I only shot at him that day back in Valentine 'cause I didn't wanna lose that debt money. But then he told me Bronte was settin' us up with the trolley thing, and I…" He sighed, splaying his hands in frustration. "Ain't sure what to make of that, I guess."

Her tongue darted out to wet her lips and she turned away, tapping her fingers against her arms and thinking. "Well personally I think anything you fools try to rob in that city ain't gonna go well, Arthur…" She glanced back at him with a serious expression. "Lawmen everywhere, and surely those Pinkertons won't have too much trouble followin' a caravan of twenty-somethin' people. But…" Her eyes moved away from him again, surveying some point off in the distance while the gears turned.

"But you're right. I don't know what he'd gain by tellin' you it's a setup. Does he know we're the ones that went and got Jack?"

Arthur shrugged. "Don't know. Pretty sure they know Bronte was the one double-crossed 'em, though. He might be tryin' to find out if we was the ones he had do it for him. I guess Everett talked to Dutch too, but…I ain't exactly found a good way of askin' what he said without soundin' suspicious."

"He'll already be suspicious if Everett told him his name. Probably wonderin' what the hell a woman with the same name's been doin', _fraternizin'_ with his number one son…"

"Well, I don't know if Dutch knows about any fraternizin', per se, but…yeah. He don't afford too many folk the ability to come and go as they please. Trelawny's just about the only one that's gotten that honor. Might be wise to get yourself ready to be asked where your loyalty lies." Arthur's gaze focused on her as he slid his hands into his pockets. He looked quite serious in that moment, the blue-green of his eyes reflecting the dull glow from the lantern in her tent.

She folded her arms across her chest and looked over at him, brows drawing down. "It certainly don't lie with Dutch…"

Arthur's mouth twitched slightly, and he opened it to speak but then thought better of it. After a moment of silence he finally responded, his voice taking on a hard, flat tone. "So where does it lie, then?"

Willa didn't back down from his stare, but she couldn't help being rather offended that he even felt the need to ask the question. She replied with the same hardness. "With you."

"You're with me…you're with Dutch. I'm gonna tell you again, Wilhelmina, 'cause I ain't sure you quite understand. This is a serious business we're in, now. You stay here with us…wit' _me_ …" He extracted one hand from his pocket to tap his fingers against his own chest. "You _gotta_ be ready to start showin' Dutch some more respect. Start doin' what he asks of you. You gotta be ready to tell him about your brother. And you gotta be ready to fight, kill, and maybe even die for this gang…"

She nodded slowly, quirking the corner of her lips down in a grimace. She took a few moments to collect herself. God, how she could fly off the handle at that if she didn't reign herself in; choose her words carefully. She sucked in a heavy breath before looking back up at him. "I will tell Dutch van der Linde whatever I damn well please. You want to know why it is I don't show him more respect? Because he reminds me of _Everett_. I will listen to you, and I will listen to Hosea, and I will take your words into consideration…but I will not take orders from that megalomaniac. If you want me to go 'cause I ain't treatin' Dutch van der Linde like my very own daddy, then…just tell me to go."

Arthur's brow furrowed, fist clenching at his side. He looked down and away from her. He couldn't see her trembling, couldn't feel her heart thumping wildly in her chest. All he could see was that cold exterior; that withered and hardened soul that had sacrificed so much of itself and could not possibly sacrifice any more. "I want you…to take care of yourself, Miss Thorne. I surely ain't a man to listen to, and Dutch has _always_ known better than me. I _got_ to believe in him. And if you can't…if you really think you see so much of your good-for-nothin' brother in the man that _raised_ me…well, I should'a seen this comin' I guess." He looked out toward the swamp, letting out a humorless scoff.

She grit her teeth at that, screwing her eyes shut for a few moments and exhaling a large sigh. Hosea had been right, _again_. Arthur's loyalty was a force to be reckoned with. She knew she couldn't expect him to dismiss twenty years of faithfulness, and yet she found herself practically begging him to by comparing Dutch to her brother. She knew that had been a stupid and hasty thing to say, but it was also _true_. If she couldn't be honest with Arthur by now, she really did have nothing.

So she labored on, pushing herself further into the quicksand. She took a few steps closer to him, removing one arm from over her chest to point a finger at him. "I know you like to think you're stupid, Arthur. Or you're just pretending to, I ain't sure which. But I also know that I don't want to see you blindly followin' that man into your fucking grave. I don't want to see _any_ of you fools doin' that. So maybe I _should_ go. I'll deal with my brother. You don't worry yourself about it. You go to your goddamn Tahiti, or Australia, or wherever. Go and find yourself some pretty island whore you and Dutch van der Linde can share. But I will tell you _one_ thing, Arthur. If I have learned anything about that man, it is that whatever he shares with you…it ain't gonna be fair, and it ain't gonna mean all that much."

He suddenly grabbed her wrist out of the air, huffing out one of those bull's breaths of his and tugging her further out of earshot of anyone that might have been awake out around the girls' wagon or the back porch of the house. He shoved her forward up near a large oak tree that towered into the night sky, leaning down over Willa with an air of brutishness she'd really only ever seen just a few times. "You are out of goddamn line, Miss Thorne! You got no right to come on into a _gang camp_ and talk treason about its goddamn figurehead. You know what we do to traitors, Wilhelmina? I don't think you want to…"

She hissed and leaned up towards Arthur, losing what was left of her temper and snapping right back at him. "Well it's a goddamn good thing I wasn't ever a part of this gang to be a traitor _to_ it! My loyalty is _always_ to you, Arthur! If you don't want to accept that you and your ' _figurehead'_ are mutually exclusive to each other, then you really are a goddamn stupid son of a bitch! You are your own _fucking_ man, Arthur Morgan! You've given them twenty years of your goddamn life, how much more of it are they gonna take from you!?"

They stared each other down, huffing and heaving heavy breaths in and out between each other.

"I-"

"Shut up." He cut her off then, voice still deep and angry but much lower than it had been. Grittier. She tensed, actually expecting to be hit. Instead, she was extremely surprised when his mouth came crashing into hers with such force that she found herself backed up against that tree, relenting to the will of his touch.

Willa was still furious though, and she let him know that by threading her fingers into the hair at the back of his head and yanking backwards, pulling him away from her just enough so that she could hiss back, " _you shut up!_ " Probably a stupid thing to say, in hindsight.

They stared at each other for a few more tense moments, eyes searching the other for any sign of weakness. Each waiting with bated breath for the other to say it needed to stop. When it was fairly clear that neither of them had anything else to say, Arthur's gaze flicked down to her lips again and the rest of him followed.

He wasn't quite sure what the point of this was, didn't know what it was he hoped to achieve from it. He felt almost immediate guilt at the way he'd pulled and pushed at her. He was mad at Wilhelmina for egging him on and he was even madder at himself for letting her. And if he couldn't settle this one way or another with words, then something physical it had to be. It was all he knew, and he certainly couldn't use his fists. Would never, _never_ let himself follow in his father's footsteps in that regard.

Willa dug her nails into the sensitive skin at the back of his neck, responding to his fervency in kind. She didn't know how else to explain to him that she thought he was a better man than Dutch van der Linde would ever be; that he was not just a tool for that man to use when the business of brutishness suited him. That he deserved to be appreciated in his own right, for all that he was and all that he still had the potential to be. She didn't _want_ to leave his unruly family. She didn't want to leave him.

Somewhere in those tense and thrilling moments his hands had found their way up to either side of her neck, so gentle now for all the force he had put into getting her there and was even now putting into kissing her. Her hat was crushed between the back of her head and that tree. Her other hand had crept up to his waist.

The thought of her leaving again to go and find her brother all on her own was anathema to him. But he was torn between wanting to keep Wilhelmina close and wanting her to get the hell out of there; away from the mess they'd found themselves in, and any potential ones that had yet to be made. But if they could just get _one_ big score down here…that was all they'd need. If they made it that far, maybe he could convince her to just come with him.

She pulled back from him to gasp in a breath, her fingers hooking into the waistband of his suit pants to boldly yank him closer against her. Willa tilted her head up into the crook of his neck, breath hot against the skin of his throat. "Show me what kind of a man you are…"

Arthur's eyes widened and his hands immediately left her neck to swat her wandering fingers away, snatching up her wrist and clutching it like she'd been trying to stab him instead of…whatever else she'd been thinking of. "What the hell'd you say?"

She leaned back slightly so she could look up at him again, expression hard and eyes dark. "I can't make you use your _words_ to admit to me that Dutch van der Linde ain't your goddamn master, then I'll make you use your _actions_. Show me what kind of a man you really are."

Her other hand wandered down from the back of his neck, going to take up the job he was currently preventing the first hand from doing. She pressed her palm against the length that was hardening inside those suit pants, despite his best efforts. He growled back at her and snatched that hand away too.

Willa sneered up at him, pressing her hips in towards his. If he was going to try and play the brute, then so could she. There was much she retained from those years she'd been forced to sell herself for her brother's profit; she knew sex as a tool, a way for men to prove how very manly they were. Didn't really have any idea how to use it as a means of showing another person how much they were cherished and loved. "I still owe you for my life, right? So why don't you just take what I owe you?"

His mouth thinned out into a hard line as he continued to hold her wrists at bay, stepping back so she couldn't keep pressing herself against him. "No. Jesus, Wilhelmina…" He let out a shaky sigh and shook his head, looking down at her with a much softer expression. "I…not like this. It ain't gonna be like this. Ain't somethin' I'd ever _take_ from you…"

"I'm _offering_ …"

"You're still offerin' to let me _take_ it! That ain't how it should be…ain't how it's supposed to be. I can't…" Arthur cleared his throat, searching for the right words to say. He was completely taken aback by her sudden brazenness, making himself almost feel sick about the fact that he was both aroused and utterly disturbed by the casualness with which she offered herself up to him. It had been so long since he'd felt something like this and he wanted it, of _course_ he wanted it, but he wanted – _needed_ – sex to _mean_ something.

Dutch had paid his way with enough prostitutes when he'd been in his late teens that he knew just about how it was for them, and it had always left a sour taste in his mouth.

He and Mary had managed to snatch a few nights together, all those years ago. That had been closer to what he wanted the experience to be. Probably laid some of the groundwork for why he'd remained so staunchly under her spell for all these years. She'd show him affection, snatch it away, come back and say he was a fool and yet she needed him still, and the whole rotten cycle would start over again until she went and ran off with that Linton fella.

With Eliza, it had been just a single night of too many drinks and too much loneliness and her face had been _so pretty_ and she had been so _sweet_ to him. But the aftermath of that night had been seared into his heart and his memories for years now, had a stranglehold on him still in fact.

And now there was this. Wilhelmina Thorne, caught in some nebulous, hellish limbo in between. He vowed to himself that if somehow they got out of all of this, if she truly had feelings for him, actually _wanted_ to waste her time with a wretch like him, then he would show her how it was supposed to be. He would show her how even a damned sinner such as he could approach the act from a place of love and respect. She deserved that, at the very least. "Ain't gonna take nothin' from you. It's not that I…ain't that I don't want to, but this ain't the time or the place. And you…you deserve more'n I could ever give you, Dutch or not, gang or not, _loyalty_ or not, I ain't talkin' about none of that right now. If that ever happens, it's gotta be…it needs to be somethin' we _both_ want, you understand? Not a bargain, not a trade, not a goddamn _currency_. It's _feelings_." Arthur finally let go of one of her hands to tap his fingers over his heart, trying to emphasize his clumsy attempts at explaining himself.

Willa's brows drew down and she stood there silently for a moment before he let go of her other hand and she curled her arms around herself, as if she were cold in the stifling Lemoyne air. She took a few hasty few steps to the side, skirting around him and casting her gaze to the ground. "Jesus, I'm sorry. I…wow, this ain't how normal people act. 'Course it isn't…I just thought..." She splayed her fingers in frustration, shaking her head. "With how upset you were..."

He huffed out a sigh. "You should get some rest, Wilhelmina. Both of us should. Let's…maybe talk it over tomorrow. We'll…we'll figure out what to do about Dutch and your brother and Bronte. Maybe manage not to tear into each other's throats like goddamn fisher-cats…"

Willa's gaze darted back to him briefly. He could see that she was embarrassed. "I'm real sorry I got rough wit' you...I...hell, I ain't got a clue what it is you're doin' to me either, okay? Don't you feel bad about nothin', just…let's just try to work together here, alright?" He reached out then, gently putting a steadying hand on her arm.

She leaned into the touch slightly, her head tilting down so she could glance at his hand there. "Okay. Alright. I…thank you…"

Arthur nodded back, giving her arm a gentle squeeze before he was turning away from her and making his way toward the back porch of the plantation house. She watched his silhouette for a few more moments before retreating back to her tent. She hastily wiped at some moisture escaping down one of her cheeks and immediately scoffed at herself. She needed to sit and think, not waste time crying over how he'd just shown her overwhelmingly what kind of man he really was.


	13. Shady Belle - Hellfire

The next day, Willa and Arthur never got the chance to talk about what had happened the night before. It was hard enough for them to snatch private moments together in a camp full of people, but Dutch had caught him early in the morning to send him off into the city; something about Trelawny and a fancy high-stakes poker game on a riverboat.

So he had ridden off, and she was left to her own devices. She wandered around the grounds sullenly for a while, drinking cup after cup of coffee and rolling untold numbers of cigarettes. She couldn't seem to get her head straight. She kept replaying everything that had happened the night before, again and again.

She had discovered that Arthur Morgan was a sensitive man; much more sensitive than he let on to most, if not all of his gang. When he'd finally shown her his journal a few nights ago, she had sat in wordless disbelief as she had flipped through the pages, absorbing the intricate swirls and flourishes of his handwriting and peering down to examine the details of his sketches. The few he'd done of her were her favorites, of course. She'd looked up at him, eyes wide, and asked, "this is really what I look like? These are…beautiful, Arthur…"

"Heh…" He'd shrugged and reached up to scratch the back of his neck in that awkward way he had, perched beside her on his cot; she'd snuck up to his room that night after they'd seen Mary in St. Denis. "Well, when you're drawin', things tend to come out a little different than real life, but…yeah, that's how I see you…"

God, she was the stupidest woman on the planet. She had overstepped her bounds. She had quite possibly ruined the one good thing that had come into her life in a few short moments comprised of some unholy mixture of passion and rage. Had she known there were men who existed that would actually turn down a woman's advances? She didn't think she had. All she had ever known were men who desired sex as a tool, most often for letting out their frustration at how their wives or social betters emasculated them.

Arthur was obviously different, and she had no idea how to go about righting her wrongs. She didn't even _know_ it had been wrong until he'd had to peel her hands away from him. Until he'd started trying to explain it to her. She had thought it would be as simple as letting him take out his frustration, even goading him into it by bringing Dutch up again. What kind of weird manipulation even was that?

She thumped her head back against the wall of the house, closing her eyes and huffing out a sigh. She'd found herself out on the back porch and just sat down there, no energy to move anywhere else for the moment, no ambition to try and do anything useful. All of a sudden John ripped open the back door of the house and stomped outside, furiously shoving a cigarette between his lips and fumbling in his pockets for a match.

"Here." Willa produced a box of matches from her satchel and tossed it up to him when he turned around to see who'd spoken.

"Thanks…" He let out a gravelly sigh, walking over and letting himself slide down the wall until he was sitting next to her. He struck one of the matches and lit his cigarette before handing the little box back to her, leaning his own head back against the wall of the house.

She turned her head to look at him. "Hm…look like you could use one of these." She produced a bottle of beer from the few she had stashed beside her, holding it towards him. He took it, nodding his head gratefully. "What's goin' on?"

John shook his head, letting the cigarette dangle from his lips as he unsealed the bottle. "Goddamn Dutch is what's goin' on…"

Her brows drew down. She reached for her own bottle of beer, having decided partway through the afternoon it might be better than chugging all that coffee. Made her feel a little better, anyway.

"Can I ask you somethin'?"

She swallowed the sip she'd taken, carefully balancing the bottle on one of her knees and holding it there. "Sure…"

"You ain't been around very long, obviously. So what do _you_ think of Dutch? Be honest with me. 'Cause I'm goddamn sick and tired of hearin' nothin' but his bullshit right now."

Willa chewed her lip. This was such a different tone to hear from one of the gang that she almost thought it was a trick. That Dutch had put him up to this to try and subtly test her loyalty, like Arthur had been talking about last night. "You want me to tell you the truth, or you want me to tell you what Dutch would wanna hear?"

He looked over at her, mouth pressed into a firm line as he took a harsh drag from the cigarette. "Tell me the truth, please, for the love of God."

Willa sat up a little straighter. "You first. You tell me why you're askin'."

John clawed one of his hands in frustration. "I just…ever since Blackwater, I just feel like Dutch ain't doin' things the way he used to. He says he wants to go west and we keep goin' further east. Wants us to 'go straight' once we got enough money to disappear, but keeps talkin' about these huge jobs that are just gonna get innocent people killed. We used to help folks, you know that? I feel like…I'm startin' to feel like my whole life, he's just been tellin' me pretty stories to groom me into killin' and runnin' and killin' some more…"

She cleared her throat and set her beer down on the porch beside her so she could retrieve her rolling tobacco. "John, I…let me start by sayin' that I thought Arthur was gonna tear my goddamn throat out last night because of some nasty things I might have said to him about Dutch. I ain't gonna lie to you, I don't like him. I don't like how he is with Molly…I don't-" She cut herself off, almost afraid to tell John how much she disliked Arthur's unfaltering loyalty to their leader. But they were supposed to be brothers, right? And if one brother was having doubts…

She glanced at him then, before refocusing on the cigarette between her fingers. "I don't like how Arthur doesn't question him."

John scoffed. "You and me both. Ya know, for a while I understood. _Thought_ I understood, anyway. Arthur was the first. 'Dutch's first and _best_ son.' And then I came along, this scrawny, good-for-nothin' kid outta Illinois, and all of a sudden I guess he was scared he wasn't the best anymore. Ya know, he complains about bein' Dutch's workhorse, but that damn fool did it to himself. Thought he had to keep provin' himself to Dutch, I think. _Had_ to be the best, always…at everything…"

Willa lifted the cigarette to lick the paper, sealing it with her fingers before sticking it between her lips. "John, have you…I mean, you ever thought about leavin'? Just takin' Abigail and Jack, and makin' your own life for yourself?"

John took a sip of beer, nodding slightly. "Of course. I _did_ leave, for a while, but…well, that weren't cause of Dutch. When Abigail told me she was pregnant, told me she was certain _I_ was the father, I…" He paused, shaking his head a little. "I don't know, I guess I got kinda tore up over it. Weren't ready to be done raisin' hell for one, and didn't really believe her for a long time for two." He looked over hastily, taking another drag. "I mean, when she first joined up, let's just say I wouldn't have been certain _who_ the father was."

Willa held a match up to her own cigarette, returning a small nod as she waved out the little flame and tossed it to the side. "Yeah, I heard a little about that. It's hard…bein' a woman in this world, you know…but she's tough, and beautiful and _smart_ , John. You could do a hell of a lot worse. You know that, right?"

"Yeah yeah, I know. She drives me crazy. Completely up the walls, fuckin' crazy. But I…I do love her. And I know I need to start doin' right by her. By both of 'em." His eyes narrowed as he gazed out towards the swamp. "That's why I don't get all this crap Dutch keeps spoutin' at me."

"What crap?"

John sighed and shook his head. "Back at Horseshoe, he was tellin' me all kinds of things about how good it was havin' a son and gettin' 'caught by love,' or some such nonsense. But now that I'm finally wantin' to try and look out for them more, it's like…like he thinks I'm turnin' my back on him."

"Fawnin' over you one second when things're goin' well, and then sayin' it's your fault for 'lack of faith' when it starts goin' bad? No, that don't sound like Mr. Dutch van der Linde at all…" She rolled her eyes and took a sip of beer.

He nodded. "He's certainly never liked bein' criticized. Told me the only reason we even came down here was to get _my_ son! Like those fuckin' Pinkertons showin' up ain't got nothin' to do with it…"

Willa pursed her lips and took a slow drag from her cigarette. "…Are you scared that you might not make it out of all of this?"

His brows drew down and he took another long sip of the beer before looking over at her again. "'Course."

They sat in silence for a few minutes after that. Finally, John inhaled a sharp breath and glanced over at her. "What do you think about Micah?"

A sneer crossed Willa's face and she hawked up some mucus, spitting it towards the steps that led down into the grass. "I think he's a distasteful piece of shit."

The corner of John's mouth quirked a bit and he nodded, apparently satisfied. "Yeah. Somethin's not quite right about him. He ain't been with us that long…but he's cozied up awful close to Dutch since we was in Blackwater."

She raised an eyebrow. "Sounds like a lot of things happened in Blackwater…or a lot of things kicked off there, anyway."

"You got that right. The whole reason we're in this goddamn mess." John took one last drag of his cigarette before tossing it out between the posts of the porch railing. He sighed, leaning forward and using one hand to lever himself to his feet.

Willa looked up at him. "John…you mind if I ask you somethin' before you go?"

He shrugged, leaning back down to grab his beer. "Guess not."

"When you and Abigail first…well, got together, I guess…was it…I don't know, hard?"

He blinked, standing back up to his full height and bringing the bottle partway to his lips. "Well," he scoffed gently. " _Yeah_. We was screwin' like rabbits just about every chance we got. Though, I'm guessin' _that_ ain't what you meant…" He quirked an eyebrow. "Why are you askin'?"

She shrugged, casting her gaze away from him and down at the cigarette between her fingers. She took one last drag before tossing it off the porch and getting to her feet. "I don't know. No reason. Just somethin' stupid I thought of."

"Right." John squinted at her, looking like he wanted to say something else.

She quickly drained the rest of her beer and moved past him, trying to get out from under his scrutiny. "Anyway, I'm sure you got things to do. I need to go see about fetchin' Pearson some gator eggs…"

John's eyes widened. After a moment he hollered after her. "You better be careful out there! I ain't gonna be the one explainin' to Arthur why we're draggin' pieces of you outta that swamp!"

She just snorted and raised a hand to wave without looking back, making her way around the side of the house. She didn't really have any intention of going to find alligator eggs, at least not right then. But she'd had to say something before she said all the wrong things.

So Willa wandered around toward the front of the house, noting Dutch and Hosea mounting up over by the hitching posts and riding off down the road. At least she wouldn't have to worry about Dutch cornering her for a while. She was expecting it now, but she still had no idea what she would tell him when he confronted her. She wanted to stay near Arthur, but there was no way in hell she'd take orders from that man. Maybe when Arthur and Trelawny came back she could ask the magician what his secrets were…

She suddenly spied Lenny coming around from the front side of the property with a rifle held close to his chest. He was on guard duty, making his way down the edge of the marsh that ran parallel to the old house. She chewed her lip and stuffed her hands into the pockets of her pants, deciding to approach.

Lenny's eyes met hers and he faltered slightly, slowing his march and glancing back and forth. He cleared his throat and looked down at his feet. "Miss Willa…"

"Hey, Lenny…so, uh, how're the rounds?"

"Pretty quiet."

She nodded. "Good. Good."

They both stood in uncomfortable silence for a minute. Finally, she couldn't take it anymore. She sucked in a big breath and said, "listen…you know I'm still your friend, right?"

His gaze finally rose to meet hers and he sighed, letting the rifle drop to his side. "Yeah, I know. I'm real sorry about…well, you know…"

"You ain't gotta be sorry, Lenny. I know it's…not what you wanted to hear. But you'll thank me some day, when you got a wife and a little family that loves you..."

He scoffed softly. "Maybe. Just, uh…listen, Willa. Just…do right by Arthur? He's…like my brother."

Willa's eyes widened, her mouth falling open slightly. Had it really been that obvious? She sighed and gave him a slow nod, reaching up to rub one of her arms. "I'd…I'd really like to. And you know he feels the same way about you, right?"

Lenny started to nod, but his attention was drawn off in the direction of the house. Mary-Beth was approaching them, her hands wringing themselves anxiously. "Lenny! Willa…listen, either of you seen Kieran around?"

Willa blinked and looked over. Come to think of it, she hadn't seen him in a day or two. She shook her head. "Sorry, Mary-Beth. He's…never taken off before?"

She shook her head. "No. I mean, usually nobody lets him wander. Folks are still nervous 'cause he used to run with them O'Driscolls, I guess…"

Lenny nodded, idly lifting the rifle up against his chest again. "Yeah. He's usually wherever the horses are, so if he ain't there then I don't know where he is. But uh…I should get back to it, I guess. If I see him, I'll tell him you were lookin' for him, Miss Gaskill"

She nodded, stepping aside to let him pass between herself and Willa. Lenny tipped his head to them before continuing on along the waterline. Willa glanced after Lenny briefly and then turned back to Mary-Beth, trying to offer up a reassuring smile. "I'm sure he'll turn up."

Mary-Beth tried to return a smile of her own, but it was a thin enough veneer. She was obviously pretty concerned. "I hope so. Well thanks, anyway…" Her gaze fell to the ground and she walked back toward the house.

Willa continued her idle journey, suddenly wondering about the other members of the gang that had made odd remarks about her and Arthur. Sean had called them 'lovebirds' back at Clemens Point. Sadie had definitely brought it up the other night after they'd brought Jack back…and the way John had pointedly mentioned not wanting to tell Arthur if she got torn apart by alligators was mighty suspicious. She thought about some of the things her and Hosea had talked about, thinking the old man most likely knew as well. Shit…was it one of those terrible scenarios she'd only read about where the two of them were the last to know?

She heaved another sigh and decided to go find Charles. Maybe going to look for those gator eggs was a good idea. Hell, maybe the two of them could even shoot a gator and bring it back for supper. She couldn't help overhearing Pearson raving about all the culinary opportunities they weren't taking advantage of now that they were in the south.

Much later that night, Willa happened to find Susan Grimshaw deep in her cups over by the scout fire. Normally she never saw the woman let herself go this much, but with Tilly's recent rescue from some of the members of her former gang, Willa wondered if it had rattled the older woman's cage a bit.

She was sitting by herself half-singing a pretty song Willa couldn't quite make out, a bottle of gin clutched in one hand. When she saw Wilhelmina walking by in the darkness, Grimshaw patted a hand down on an empty crate beside her, cutting off the song. "C'mere. You, missy, have got some explaining to do…"

Willa knew better than to directly disobey an order from the older woman, so she steered herself over and took a seat on the crate, crossing one leg over the other. "What have I got to explain, Miss Grimshaw?"

"If anyone's gonna be doing any _whoring_ in this camp, I'm the first one needs to know about it…" Her words slurred a bit, but her dark gaze leveled on Willa with an intensity that spooked her a little bit.

"Jesus Grimshaw, what the hell are you on about!?" Willa sneered and went to stand up and walk away, but she felt a rough grip pull her back down by one of her wrists. She growled, yanking her hand out of the woman's grasp. "I already told Micah, but I guess I gotta tell you too! I ain't no camp whore!"

Grimshaw narrowed her eyes suspiciously, eyeing Wilhelmina up and down. "Then what do you think you're doin' with Mr. Summers and Mr. Morgan? Don't think I don't see the way those boys fawn all over you, little harlot!"

Willa clenched her fists. "What's it to you!? Camp whores supposed to put their money in Dutch's tribute box too?"

"Everyone in this camp contributes! You may do your own washin' and bringin' back game a time or two but I will not sit by and have some no-account drifter winding our best man around her pretty little finger!" Grimshaw waved the bottle at Willa menacingly and she got a flashback of when the woman had waved those little scissors at her the same way, that day Lenny and Arthur had rescued her from the Lemoyne Raiders.

Her jaw worked. She closed her eyes for a second, trying to take a deep breath and calm down. Finally she met Grimshaw's gaze again, looked her in the eyes while she reached over and yanked the gin right out of the woman's hand. Willa dipped her head in a sarcastic 'thank you' gesture before taking a swig from the bottle. Hissing, she finally responded. "Ya know, I've done my share of whoring, Miss Grimshaw. And thank the lord for laudanum, so that I could up and forget most of it. I _know_ what kind of men take to it; Arthur sure as hell ain't one of 'em. Congratulations. You got two good eyes, but you ain't actually _seein'_ with either of 'em."

Grimshaw squinted back at her. "You're right. He don't go chasin' after women since that stuck-up Mary Gillis, or that little one, Eliza…" She reached over and snatched the bottle back. "So what's so special 'bout you?"

Willa leaned back from the woman, her brows drawing down. Eliza? Arthur had never mentioned anyone other than Mary. She stood up then, resting a hand over the holster at her hip. "Ain't nothin' special about me. Guess I just don't treat him like he's a big, stupid workhorse. I may not have known him nearly as long as you have, but I do care about him. He's been kinder to me than just about anybody else I ever met. And if you're gonna sit here and criticize me for that, then to hell with you, ya old crone."

Willa waved a hand and stalked away from the scout fire. She had to get out of that damn camp. Arthur, Trelawny, Strauss and Javier still hadn't returned from St. Denis. Micah and Bill had been sitting around the main campfire for hours now, spouting a bunch of hateful bullshit. She needed a break.

As she turned Tulip to head up the dirt track, she thought about heading to Rhodes. Maybe going to the Parlour House and getting a hot bath would help her to calm down. It was only an hour or so away, and she could surely use more time to think about Arthur and Dutch.

John's words earlier that day had shaken Willa more than she'd let on. She'd already cultivated distaste for Dutch van der Linde, although she couldn't explain exactly why. The way he talked reminded her of her brother, all smooth and easy to take in but with no real substance underneath. The way he treated Molly was abhorrent, though it didn't help that the young woman only seemed to be making matters worse for herself; she seemed to be descending into hysterical denial rather than taking an honest look at the true reality of things.

Dutch berated his people constantly about the strength inherent in sticking together, but somehow nobody seemed to see that it would be much more difficult for them to be tracked if they split off from each other; one or two individuals quietly disappearing into the fabric of the country would cause a hell of a lot less commotion than twenty-something people and a dog careening through cities and across state lines. But they were a family, and breaking apart would probably seem inconceivable to them.

When Willa finally made her way into the Parlour House, it was just about midnight. Some men were still drunkenly hanging off the bar, splaying hands across each other's backs and barking laughter at each other's tasteless jokes. She moved purposefully to the end of the bar so she could ask the barman for a bath to be run, giving the men a wide berth as she made her way over to the winding staircase that led to the second floor.

After ten or so minutes a working girl came out of the room to let her know it was all ready and Willa made her way in, already pulling up the black neckerchief that hung loosely tied around her neck.

Clothes thrown in a haphazard pile across a chair and some of the floor, she sank down into the hot water and breathed out a sigh. It might be wise to try talking with Hosea before letting Dutch approach her. Hosea could explain the threat that Everett posed in a way that Dutch might actually understand, re-frame things so that it wouldn't be a question of _her_ loyalty, but of her brother's intentions.

She wondered if Everett knew that she had gotten so close to him in St. Denis; if he had any suspicions of her involvement with rescuing those boys, or killing his men. If he didn't already know, she could be sure he was at least entertaining the thought of it. Willa poured a small decanter of rosemary water over her hair, working it in with the fingers of her other hand.

Her thoughts turned idly towards Arthur again. She had finally managed to squelch some of her anxieties on that front. She needed to apologize to him, that was clear enough; but when she remembered the way he'd marched into that tavern in St. Denis and kissed her and told her he'd sent Mary off, she knew that whatever he felt for her was some kind of sincere. She supposed all she could ask was that he be patient with her. And not ask her to pander to Dutch's vanity.

She had contemplated renting a room and snatching a few hours of sleep in the Parlour House, but decided against it. The bath had helped her relax, but she didn't feel the need for sleep. Willa was restless still, wanted to get back and see Arthur. Or at least make sure he was in his room, snoring away, and not a bloated corpse currently floating in with the tide in St. Denis' harbor.

As Willa and Tulip made their way back toward the southern tip of Scarlett Meadows, they came upon an odd sight just ahead off the road. Willa could fairly distinctly make out the soft glow of lantern light in the mossy clearing known as Bolger's Glade. It was still the early hours of the morning, though the sky had begun to brighten just a touch off in the distance.

She knew she was almost back to Shady Belle, and it was concerning to see that somebody was holed up in that old, crumbling abandoned church that the Lemoyne Raiders had once been using as an outpost. She decided to ride around in a wide circle, tethering Tulip to a tree back in the woods a ways behind the old building. She wanted to get a closer look, see if she could find out who was making camp there so that she could warn Arthur and the others if the Raiders were back to try and muscle in on their old territory.

She slid her shotgun out of its holster on the saddle and held it close to her chest as she tried to silently pick her way through the underbrush. She thought she could hear snippets of some voices echoing out from the old stones.

The tree cover was thinning out as she got closer, so she darted as fast as she could across the clearing and over to the old bulwark. She definitely heard voices out around the front now, but it seemed whoever it was, they weren't worried that anybody might sneak up from the forest behind. She paused there against the back wall, edging her way to the corner to try and make out what the strangers were saying.

"-and we don't need Colm comin' down on us, screamin' about 'why's the fuckin' job not finished.' Just cut the stupid bastard's head off, get him mounted up, and let's get on with it!"

She heard some grumbling coming from another man, and the drumming sound of her own heart thumping rapidly in her ears. They must have been talking about Colm O'Driscoll. Which meant his gang had made their way down into Lemoyne; and far too conveniently close to Shady Belle for comfort.

She gasped slightly and slapped her palm over her mouth as a voice cut the silence much closer to her – just on the other side of the wall, in fact.

"Well, Kieran, old friend…guess this is it for you. You should'a never betrayed us. You know how Colm deals with turncoats…"

"Oh shit," Willa whispered to herself. "Ohshitohshit…" She licked her dry lips and carefully eased around the corner of the church, noting a ragged, blown out hole in the wall just on the other side. No wonder the bastard's voice had sounded like it was right there beside her. She crouched down and craned her neck above where the wall abruptly stopped, catching sight of a greasy fella with a green vest on under his duster, holding what looked like a goddamn machete in one hand.

Her gaze quickly darted down from the man with the giant blade to the crumpled body on the floor, pressed back against the wall. It was definitely Kieran, and he definitely didn't look good. He was covered in blood and bruises, and she could see in the light from a lantern perched on one of the old stones that his right eye had been gouged out. Her stomach immediately flopped at the sight of the dark hole in his head and she peeled herself away from the opening in the wall, clamping that hand back over her mouth again.

She slowly placed the shotgun on the ground in front of her, reaching back to retrieve the hunting knife sheathed at her hip. It slid out of the casing with a whisper, and she clutched it in her fist, turning herself back to peer through the broken wall.

The O'Driscoll had leaned the machete up against the stones beside him in favor of a common table spoon, looming in over Kieran and snatching him up by his throat to hold him still. Willa clenched her jaw and slowly began creeping up over the broken fragments of the wall. If she didn't act fast, he'd lose the other eye too.

Once she was clear of enough of the rubble, she sucked in a quick breath and leapt at the O'Driscoll, coming at him from his left side and wrenching her arm around his face while she plunged the hunting knife into the tender muscle where his neck met his shoulder. He let out a cry of pain that was stifled by the inside of her elbow, dropping the spoon and flailing wildly in an attempt to buck off his attacker.

Willa grit her teeth and dug her boots into the ground, pushing back against him and wrenching the knife upwards to try and cut through one of the arteries in this throat. She knew she'd succeeded when he fell limp underneath her and she didn't waste any time hauling the knife out and letting his corpse hit the ground.

She glanced all around before kneeling in front of Kieran, stuffing the knife back in its sheath and slapping his cheek softly with her palm a few times to try and get him to focus. Frantically, she whispered, "Kieran! _Kieran!_ You hearin' me? Can you walk?"

Kieran's good eye fluttered slightly and a dry groan escaped his cracked lips. It took him a few moments for recognition to dawn on him, and she heard him croak out, "M-miss Willa?"

"Shh! Yeah. Can you walk? Tulip's just out back, okay? I'm gonna get you outta here, but you need to help me. Can you help me, Kieran?"

He groaned again and slowly nodded his head, letting it hang as he shoved his body forward weakly from the wall. She jammed herself in under one of his shoulders and helped him lever himself to his feet, guiding him towards the hole she'd come through. She helped him up over the chunks of rubble, urging him to stop for just a moment so she could stoop and retrieve the shotgun before checking behind them once again.

"Elias? You done in there yet!?" A voice carried in from out front, the same one from before.

"C'mon…" Willa urged Kieran forward again, trying her best to keep him stumbling in somewhat of a straight line across the clearing and back toward the trees. Dawn was truly upon them now, and she was terrified of being seen. She kept whispering to him, telling him to stay awake, stay with her until they could make it back to the horse.

After a few gut-wrenching attempts to get him mounted up on his own, she finally got him to stay steady enough for her to climb up in front of him. She picked up Tulip's reigns and softly clicked her tongue, urging her off deeper into the woods to cross the road just to the east and keep on going through the brush and sparse tree cover.

She glanced back at Kieran every few minutes, nudging him to keep him responding to her encouragements. If he was making noise and trying to talk, it meant he wasn't dead yet. His weight was heavy against her back, and as they emerged onto another road she immediately guided Tulip to follow it to their right and on into Shady Belle.

Suddenly Willa realized she could hear the dull thundering of many hoof beats off in the distance behind them. She afforded the quickest glance back and felt her stomach flopping again. A cloud of dust was pluming up into the sky from a cavalry of riders coming up after them, and all she could do was buck her feet and scream for Kieran to hold onto her.

She urged Tulip into a gallop down the straightaway. They were so close to Shady Belle now, she had no choice but to keep on going and hope that she could warn the gang in time to stop them all from being massacred. Bucking her feet fiercely a few more times, she leaned forward in the saddle and prayed for the mare to go faster.

Dutch had caught Arthur again for another early morning, and they happened to be standing out on the second floor balcony of the house discussing the trolley station robbery when Wilhelmina realized further up the road that they might have a real problem on their hands.

"Not Micah?"

"Well that depends if you want a massacre or a pay day…"

Dutch shook his head at Arthur, giving him a reproachful look. "Now I wish that there was somethin' I could do to make the two of you get along better…"

"Well that's easy. Make 'im change." Arthur lifted his cigar to his mouth to take a puff.

Dutch pointed his own cigar in Arthur's direction, wagging it slightly. "Very funny…" Suddenly Dutch's brows furrowed as his focus moved behind the other man. Dutch made his way beside Arthur and over to the railing to get a better glimpse at the rider that was thundering in down the road. "Who is that?"

Arthur turned around, eyes following Dutch's as he placed his own hand on the railing and looked over toward the outskirts of the property.

Tulip came crashing in over the small wooden bridge that gave way to the front yard of the plantation house and Willa started screaming. " _Get the fuck inside! We got riders!_ Lots _of goddamn riders!"_

She jumped off the horse and into the dirt just as Mary-Beth started screaming. "Shut up and help me get him inside!" Willa lunged over and grabbed Mary-Beth by the arm, yanking her over to where Kieran was practically falling off tulip's hindquarters. The two women managed to get under either side of him as the other folks in the camp started rushing to get prepared.

Dutch and Arthur both ducked behind the support pillars up on the balcony as the riders began firing shots off from up the road. Dutch yelled out, "Women and children, inside! Rest of you, hold your ground!"

Willa and Mary-Beth lurched up the steps of the house with Kieran propped up between them. Willa tried to reach out with one arm to pry one of the front doors open, but Tilly beat her to it; she yanked the door wide and made sure it stayed open so they could get Kieran on into the house. They managed to get him in on the couch, and Willa told Mary-Beth to stay and tend to him as she yanked her pistol out of its holster.

The echoes of gunfire were coming fast and furious from everywhere now, and Willa tried to take a moment to get her bearings before rushing back outside. She saw Arthur lunging down the stairs, shoving his way past Molly and Pearson as they came in through the back door. "Hold in here! And stay away from the windows!"

He stopped short when he came up on her, reaching out to curl his fingers around her arm in a brief gesture of concern. "You okay!?"

She gave him a nod and he gave her a small one back, his hand already leaving her as he started moving for the front door. "You stay in here!"

"Tell Sean to get his ass in here and start makin' me some fire bottles! Or bring me some dynamite!"

Arthur gave her his little two-fingered wave as he shouldered the front doors back open only to come upon Abigail, Jack, Strauss and Susan Grimshaw. "Get inside, fast! And don't let anyone back through that door!"

Willa grit her teeth, moving past the group that had spilled in through the doors and over to the window in the front room. She elbowed out the glass and took up a position beside the frame, craning her neck out to take potshots at the O'Driscolls that were swarming the property.

She glanced over when the side door slammed open a few minutes later and Sean came running inside with a couple sticks of dynamite and some moonshine bottles cradled in his arms. He dropped the things on the table, yanking some rags from his back pockets and getting to work putting together the fire bottles.

Willa moved back in front of the window, picking off a few more of the invaders that had begun creeping up towards the house. She could see Arthur, John and Charles trying to hold their positions out front, but they were quickly becoming overwhelmed.

She cursed when she caught sight of a wagon rolling in down the road and turned to book it over to where Sean was still working. She made brief eye contact with the Irishman and gave him a nod before grabbing up a few sticks of the dynamite and one fire bottle that was ready.

He returned a nervous, lopsided grin before bending over to keep putting the explosives together. Willa fumbled her box of matches out of her satchel as she made her way over to the front door, nearly getting bowled over by John as he barreled back in from outside with Charles and Arthur on his heels. "Hold that door for me!"

She ran out between them, striking a match off of her gun belt and holding it up to the fuses on the sticks of dynamite as she curled herself up behind one of the pillars on the porch. When the fuses were lit, she cradled both sticks in one hand and leaned out from the pillar, throwing them as hard as she could in the direction of that wagon. As soon as the dynamite had left her hand, she struck another match and lit the rag in the top of the bottle, heaving that out into the yard as well before retreating back into the house.

She felt Charles grab her wrist and yank her further in as John slammed the doors shut and Arthur moved a large shelf in front of the entryway in hopes of blocking the O'Driscolls from entering.

An explosion sounded from outside as the dynamite went off. Willa looked up to see that Dutch had rejoined them, giving the men orders to cover the first floor windows. It seemed that Colm's men had begun circling around the house, trying to come in from the back as well as the front. She hoped that dynamite had killed at least a few of them.

Without any prompting from Dutch, she immediately went to follow Arthur to the back windows, taking up a position at one while he knocked out the glass of the other, already extending his revolver to shoot at the men he could see out there. They heard a scream from outside, and both faltered for a moment.

"That's Mrs. Adler! She's still out there!" Arthur clambered out through the broken window, glancing back at Willa before jumping down off the back porch. "Cover me!"

Willa stayed at the windows, picking off O'Driscolls that were coming around the side of the house to follow Arthur. A few minutes later she saw him and Sadie emerge from behind one of the outbuildings and make their way off to the left, so she abandoned that set of windows to make her way out onto the porch to keep covering them. They rounded the corner and she quickly lost sight, so she ran back inside, kicking the door shut behind her and making her way toward the front of the house again.

She could hear more gunshots coming from the front yard, so she stopped and grabbed up a few more fire bottles from Sean and went back to the window in the front room, peering out to see where the O'Driscolls were still shooting from. There was another group that had come up behind the burning remains of the wagon, and she hopped out through the window and struck another match to light the bottles.

She caught Arthur out of the corner of her eye off to her right, moving forward slowly and shooting at the men by the wagon. Willa let fly with one of the bottles a moment later, lips parting in a grimace as she watched a pool of fire erupt at the men's feet and quickly engulf them. The shots stopped with them, and she heard Dutch's voice from her left. At some point in the last few minutes they'd apparently pulled the shelf away and opened the front doors. "Cowards!"

Hosea came out beside them, glancing back and forth as John and Charles both ran back out to help the others check that the coast was clear. "We okay!?"

Dutch glanced back before looking around again briefly and descending the few steps to the ground. "I think so! Except for poor Kieran in there…"

Hosea nodded, relief flooding his old bones knowing that they had suffered no casualties. He turned to Willa and put a hand on her shoulder, squeezing gently. "You did real well in finding him, my dear. That boy owes you his life." He gave her a small nod before descending the porch steps to survey the damage, huffing out a sigh and resting his hands above his guns. "We need to get this place cleaned up. Mr. Pearson! Miss Grimshaw!"

Susan emerged from the house in a hurry, the long skirts of her dress swishing around her feet. "Already takin' care of it! Come on, now! Work!"

Some of the other men fell into clearing away the bodies of the dead once they knew everyone was accounted for. Dutch hooked his thumbs into his belt, shaking his head and looking out at the wagon that was still burning with furrowed brows. "Colm O'Driscoll…"

Arthur's mouth formed into a hard line. "That man can _really_ hate…"

Dutch glanced up at him. "So can I, Arthur…so can I. We need to get movin'. Away from here. But first…" Dutch's eyes darted back to the porch as he raised his voice. "I think it's time you and I finally have a word, Miss Thorne. Don't you?"

Willa clutched at the porch railing, a harsh and completely humorless laugh escaping her. "Well sure, Dutch. What better time than now?"

Dutch raised a hand and curled his finger, indicating he wanted her to come down off the porch to where he, Hosea and Arthur were all now standing. "You care explaining to me, and all these folks here, how it is you just came riding in here with a swarm of Colm O'Driscoll's men chasin' after you?"

"They were camped out at that old church over in Bolger Glade. I saw lanterns in there while I was ridin' by, figured I'd check it out since the place is so close. They were just gettin' ready to scoop Kieran's other eye out with a goddamn table spoon when I rescued him. Didn't know about the cavalry until we were just about back here. Saw no other choice but to keep ridin' and try to warn you."

Dutch eyed her shrewdly. "You led them right to us! Do you have any idea-"

Wilhelmina held her ground, cutting him off. "I didn't lead them anywhere! Obviously they already knew you fools was here! How else would they have kidnapped that poor man? They wanted to send a message. They wanted to ambush you!"

Dutch glared at her while Arthur tried to step in, literally moving himself so that he was somewhat between the two of them. "She's got a point, Dutch. Not like we ever let Kieran outta camp without somebody babysittin' him. They must have come in during the night and taken him."

Dutch cast a reproachful gaze at Arthur before returning his stare to Wilhelmina. "And what about that fella I met at the Mayor's party? _Everett Thorne?_ You got any idea who that might be?"

Wilhelmina's eyes narrowed. There it was. Her gaze flew to Arthur's back briefly, then Hosea. "He's my brother…"

Hosea spoke up then, sensing Dutch's blood rising. "Wilhelmina's brother is a scoundrel, Dutch. Even worse than the two of us; I know, I've met him. He's the one that took Jack, and he is someone that we need to be wary of, moving forward from this…"

"Someone we need to be _wary of?_ And his _sister_ \- this little layabout who stays in our camp whenever she pleases and uses our supplies and _eats our food_ and consorts with my family about things of which I am _entirely_ unaware – is now being lauded as a hero, because she brought a flood of goddamn _hellfire down on us!?_ "

"We're all alive, Dutch! She did what she thought was right! Hell, who knows what would have happened if they _had_ ambushed us! I'm the one gave her permission to stay here when she wanted, so if you're lookin' to take somebody down a peg, then look at me. She ain't done nothin' wrong. And she ain't no goddamn layabout." Arthur crossed his arms, fixing Dutch with a defiant glare.

Dutch let out a soft, humorless chuckle, casting his gaze up to the sky and throwing his hands up. "Oh, lord…my own son, testing my faith!" Shaking his head, he turned away from the little group. "I will give you this one, Arthur. This is her _one_ chance. When you're all done congratulating the hero, please take some time to come meet me at that trolley station so that we can get our money and get the _hell_ out of here!"

They all watched Dutch stalk off toward the horses. Wilhelmina sagged, letting out a breath it felt like she'd been holding for just about the entirety of that conversation. All things considered, she guessed it had gone better than she'd thought it would.

Once Dutch had ridden off and left the three of them standing there, Hosea let out a troubled sigh. He looked back and forth between Arthur and Wilhelmina before resting his hands above his gun belt. "I won't say I told you so, but…"

Willa grimaced, looking over at Hosea and throwing up her hands. "What was I supposed to do, Hosea!? That poor man ain't had nothin' good ever happen to him! When I realized those bastards had him, I couldn't just leave him there to die…"

"No, you did well enough on that front, my dear. I got a look at Kieran after you brought him inside. What they did to him is none too pretty, and I can only imagine all the things they was gettin' ready to do. I'm referring more to this…" He lifted one of his own hands to gesture at her, and then more broadly towards the property that surrounded them. "If you ain't in this gang, I mean _really in it_ …Dutch is going to have problems. I've made concessions for you when I can, but it's gettin' to a point where he, and a few others, are going to want to know if you're really with us…"

Arthur heaved out a weary sigh and stepped over, cutting his hand through the air. "I think she knows that by now, Hosea. No sense in beatin' a dead horse."

Wilhelmina nodded, reaching up to rub a hand over her mouth. The exhaustion was finally starting to set in. She _felt_ like a dead horse. "I just need a little bit of time to figure out what I'm doin'. And I need some sleep. And…" her gaze slid to Arthur. She felt a burning starting behind her eyelids. "Arthur, would you mind…do you think we could go upstairs and talk for a minute?"

A very petty part of her had badly wanted to follow up with 'or do you need to follow Dutch?' She squashed that right down, into the dirt, as far as it would go. She was too goddamn headstrong for her own good, and she needed to learn when to keep her mouth shut.

"Of course. Come on…" He gestured for her to take the lead, giving a nod to Hosea before following her into the house. The older man gazed after them with a look of concern on his face. He had warned the poor girl. Maybe it was time have a talk with Arthur.

She felt Arthur's fingertips press softly into the middle of her back and her breath caught in her throat. As they entered through the front room, Mary-Beth hopped to her feet from her spot beside Kieran, rushing over and grabbing up Wilhelmina's hands in both of her own. "I don't know how you did it, but thank you Willa. Thank you for savin' him…"

Willa offered the girl a weak smile, squeezing her hands for a moment. She knew the two of them had been chatting and spending time together recently, and that made her happy. She wanted the others in the gang to find happiness. "I was just in the right place at the right time. Again. He seems like a real decent man, and…well…just take care of him, okay?"

Mary-Beth gave her a vehement nod. "Oh, I will. We just gotta…find him an eye patch or somethin'." She cast a worried glance back over her shoulder.

Willa sighed and nodded, giving Mary-Beth's hands another brief squeeze before letting go. "I'll try to find one next time I'm in the city." She moved past the young girl and headed for the stairs, Arthur close behind.

When they finally got up to his room, he softly shut the door behind him and leaned back against it, reaching up to rub his face wearily.

Willa dropped down onto the edge of his cot like a lead weight, leaning forward with her elbows propped on her thighs. There was silence for a few moments before a hiccupping sob escaped her and she buried her face in her hands.

Arthur's eyes widened and he moved forward towards her, yanking off his hat and his satchel and tossing them onto one of the crates on the floor. "Hey…don't you go losin' it on me now, darlin'."

Willa gasped in a shaky breath, trying to reign herself in with little success. When he took a seat beside her and pulled her into his chest just like he'd done almost a week ago after Jack's party, she completely lost it. She curled herself in towards him, covering her mouth with her hand and burying her face into his shoulder. "Shit…A-Arthur…I'm so s-sorry!"

He rubbed his hand up and down her arm before resting his chin gently atop her head. "Look, it's gonna be okay. We're gonna get everything figured out. I'm sorry 'bout Dutch…and I'm sorry you…had to find Kieran, the way you did…"

She sniffled, trying to get a full breath in and shaking her head. "You were right. Y-you and Hosea were both right. I don't know what to do anymore, Arthur. I don't w-want to leave, but I _can't_ be a part of this gang. I ain't no outlaw, not like you. And I'm so scared for all these people…for you, a-and me…"

"Listen. We just need to get some money. We just need to pull off one big job, enough to get everybody set. And then we're free…"

"You really believe that? Arthur, I…I don't wanna die. I did, for a long time…but then I met you. And I know you all had your luck in the past, but I got a real bad feeling about all this. I know you told me there's no gettin' out of this life of yours, but I…" She swallowed thickly, reaching up to rub her nose with her sleeve before untucking herself from under his chin so she could look up at him. "You make me feel like I could have a real chance, Arthur. Like _we_ could have a chance…"

His heart clenched at that.

"The fact that you're even sittin' here with me, after I made an ungodly embarrassment out of myself the other night…I had no right to do those things to you. It's just, all the men I ever knew…there was never feelings involved with it. Not many nice ones, anyway. I just…I just forgot who I'm tryin' to be now, for a moment, I think. Fell back into…into old, bad habits…"

He breathed out a sigh, pulling back from her a bit so he could reach up and use his thumb to gently wipe some of the tears from her cheeks. "I know. I had no right to handle you like I did, I…look, we both made a few mistakes. But I like to think about that chance you're talkin' about, I really do. And I'm startin' to think about ways that maybe we _can_ get out of all this. But they _all_ involve money…"

"And you stayin' loyal to Dutch…and not leavin' everybody else behind. I won't ask you to run off on them, Arthur. But…"

"I appreciate that. I just gotta make sure they're okay. And then, I...I don't know, maybe I'll be ready for somethin' different."

She glanced up at him again, a fresh spark of hope blooming within her despite all her resignations. She couldn't ask him for more than that. Willa reached up to place her hand over his, pressing his palm into her cheek and closing her eyes.

Arthur studied her for a few moments, brows furrowing. "You weren't here when we got back last night. How long's it been since you got any sleep? You ain't usually one for sittin' and weepin' all of a sudden like this."

She scoffed, rolling her eyes away from him and letting her hand drop to her lap. "I don't know. None last night, maybe a few hours the night before. I couldn't stop thinkin' about you, and Dutch, and everything…so I decided to go into Rhodes to get a bath, then found Kieran with those O'Driscolls on my way back this morning."

He huffed out another heavy breath, finally uncurling his arm from around her shoulder and moving to stand up. "C'mon then, lay down and get some rest. You'll feel better."

"Arthur, I…what about the trolley station? Ain't Dutch on his way there now? What if Everett was tellin' you the truth?"

He grimaced, leaning forward to take her by her shoulders and gently press her down into the cot. She stopped struggling when he took a seat beside her again, letting her know he wasn't going to run off that very second. "I don't know. I don't know who I should believe less, Bronte or your brother. Dutch has got himself set on it though, and I ain't had the time to bring any doubts up to 'im. So I guess I gotta go…"

She felt panicky again, sitting herself back up to grasp at one of his wrists. "Arthur…"

He patted her hand, quirking his mouth and adjusting himself so that he was sitting back against the wall. He pulled her back down beside him, curling his arm back around her shoulder. "Don't worry. I'll be careful. If it ain't this, Hosea seems to've got his sights set on robbin' the bank; which is a whole hell of a lot more dangerous…"

Willa rolled onto her side and curled her arm around his thigh. All she wanted was for him to stay there with her, away from the dangers of St. Denis and the hell it all promised them. "You ain't makin' me feel better."

"No…I suppose not. You could come with us? Get yourself a real initiation, then Dutch won't question you ever again, I bet…" He tried for a soft chuckle, but his attempt at a sarcastic joke had fallen way short of the mark.

"Just 'cause I care about you a whole lot don't mean I condone your lifestyle, Arthur. I think Mary and I are agreed on that. I got no qualms about killin' when I have to, but robbin' innocent people? Holdin' 'em at gunpoint?"

He fell silent at that, clearing his throat and shifting uncomfortably. "I know…but I tried to be honest wit' you from the start of all this. I told you I wasn't a good man. This life is all I know. Just…please don't be any _more_ like Mary? If who I am is that distasteful to you, I'd prefer to be told the honest truth about it…"

Her brows drew down. "Ain't distasteful...you got plenty of good inside you, Arthur. I can't blame you for the way you was raised. Can I just ask you to do one thing for me?"

"What?"

"Just…really _listen_ to what Hosea and Dutch are askin' you to do. I love Hosea, I do, but I know he ain't innocent either. Just think about things, before you go rushin' into 'em just 'cause they told you to. Please."

He sighed and rubbed her shoulder a few times. "Okay. Now c'mon. Enough talkin'. You need to get some rest. I'll stay here wit' you for a bit, and hell, I'll probably even be back before you wake up…"

She wanted to argue, but she didn't have the energy anymore. Her eyes had already been heavy by the time the firefight with the O'Driscolls was done, and crying had only made it ten times worse. Willa was exhausted. Her even breathing didn't even break when Arthur gently peeled her arm from around his thigh so he could slide off the bed to leave and ride into the city with Lenny.


	14. Shady Belle - How It's Supposed to Be

"Hey, Kieran. How are you feelin'?" Willa sat down on the arm of the couch where he was still posted up. She'd woken up on Arthur's cot about twenty minutes before, and there was still no sign of him, Lenny or Dutch so she could only meander around and try to keep herself distracted.

Kieran had a layer of bandages wrapped around his head to cover his missing eye, but his cuts and scratches and various other wounds had all been cleaned up by the girls earlier, so he was looking a tad better than he had when she'd found him. His good eye lit up at the sight of her, but he didn't exactly have the energy for jumping up and giving hugs; though it looked like he wanted to. "M-miss Willa! I just…I'm just real glad to still be alive. I thought t-they was gonna cut my head off…"

"Yeah…seems they wanted to send Dutch a message he'd hear loud and clear. But don't think about that anymore, okay? You're safe now."

"Thank you! Thank you for savin' me! I didn't talk. I swear I didn't say a word about Dutch o-or the gang…" The poor man was rambling on weakly, so she just leaned over and reached out to pat one of his hands gently.

"Ain't me you gotta swear it to. But you might wanna let Dutch know that. I don't wanna think I wasted my time savin' you if he's just gonna shoot ya when he gets back." She smirked.

Kieran's eye went wide at that, and his gaze dropped to his lap. "O-oh. _Lord_ , I hope he don't do that. I never said nothin'. I been loyal to him, loyal as I can be, I swear…"

Willa faltered. She hadn't meant to frighten him even more. "Jesus, Kieran. I'm sorry, I didn't…I don't think he's actually gonna do that. He might be real ornery about the whole mess, but wouldn't make any sense to _shoot_ you. It'll be okay."

His quivering gaze flew back up to her briefly and he leaned back into the couch, taking a deep breath and nodding. "I hope so. I sure do hope so…"

She sighed and stood, letting one hand rest on her holster. "There anything I can get for you? Water, somethin' to eat?"

"No…n-no, thank you. Miss Gaskill saw to me earlier. She's…well, she's real sweet."

Willa gave him a softer smile and nodded. "She is. Well you just rest up. I'm sure someone'll be back to check on you tonight." She walked away from the couch and rounded the corner, pushing her way out through one of the front doors.

Just as she'd descended a few of the porch steps, she jumped about a foot when a voice spoke up from behind her. Willa whipped around to see Hosea sitting on a chair just to the side of the doors, a book held open in his lap. "Miss Thorne. Finally get some sleep, did you?"

She put a hand to her thumping heart, huffing out a shaky breath. "Jesus! Yes…Arthur was kind enough to let me rest in his room while he's gone into the city..."

"Mm." The old man's eyes had a sparkle to them she didn't quite trust. "You two have certainly become fast friends…"

She blinked, shoulders slumping slightly as she made her way back up the steps to stand in front of him. She leaned back against the porch railing, crossing her arms over her chest. "I guess…"

Hosea chortled, taking the ribbon marker and straightening it neatly down the center of the pages so that he could slap the book shut. He held it up and waved the corner of it towards her briefly. "Oh, come now. I wasn't born yesterday. Don't think I haven't heard those footsteps going up and down the stairs practically every night since you showed back up."

She felt her face flushing and coughed, looking down and away from the older man.

Hosea scoffed gently. "Don't feel that bad. I knew it before then, anyway. But…it ain't all sunshine and rainbows, is it?"

Willa reached into her satchel to retrieve her rolling tobacco before glancing back up at him. "No. But that's okay, I guess. Don't know what I'd do with sunshine and rainbows, anyway…"

He chuckled again. "I can see why he wants to keep you around."

Her mouth quirked as she got to work rolling a cigarette, pointedly looking down and watching her hands. "Even if he wants to…ain't gonna work."

He leaned back in his chair, affording her a smug expression. "Oh, he wants to. I think it'd make him happy as a pig in shit if you decided you wanted to join up and fall into the ranks. But, you won't…"

She afforded him a glance as she lifted the half-made cigarette to lick the paper and seal it shut. "No. I can't. All this, it's…not who I am."

"It's not Miss Jackson, or Miss Gaskill, or Mrs. Adler either." Hosea leaned forward, resting a hand on his knee. "But here they all are."

She struck a match to light the end of her cigarette, waving it out and squinting at him through the smoke. "Just a month ago you were tellin' me to get away from this gang and stay away from it. Now you're tellin' me to throw my lot in, just like that? Why?"

He raised his elbow so he could cough into it a few times and cleared his throat. "Because I am a selfish fool, Miss Thorne. And I would like to see my unruly son be happy for the brief time I have left on this miserable earth."

She let smoke plume from her nostrils and looked away from him. "I can't take orders from Dutch, Hosea. I just can't. It's…I got a bad feeling about all of this."

He hummed in agreement, leaning back in the chair again. "As do I. But it's best to hold out hope. I think, if we can rob that bank and get away with it…we'll be free. And you've got a head on your shoulders, nobody's gonna deny that. You _and_ Mrs. Adler, if she comes out of enough of her grief to lose that death wish of hers. This gang could do well with both of you as riders…"

She shook her head, but the sound of horses approaching made her turn around. Lenny and Dutch were just pulling in on a wagon, the motes of sand their arrival had kicked up glinting in the mid-afternoon sunlight and making the entrance to Shady Belle look like something out of Alice's Wonderland. She saw a lone rider coming in shortly behind and felt a weight lift from her heart.

Dutch clambered down off the wagon, almost stumbling when he reached the ground. He placed a hand gingerly to the back of his head and rolled a shoulder, taking a minute before making his way toward the house. Lenny came around to ask him if he needed help, but he just shook his head and waved the boy off.

Arthur dismounted and tethered Rei to one of the hitching posts, jogging to catch up with Dutch. He fell into step beside the dark-haired man, glancing over at him with a frown. "You sure you're alright, Dutch?"

"Yes, Arthur, I will be _fine_. I just need to take it easy for a little while…need to figure out what the _hell_ we're going to do with that snake, Bronte…"

Arthur sighed. Apparently Wilhelmina's brother had been telling him the truth. Bronte had set them up; there was a measly fifteen dollars and some change to be found in the trolley station's safe, and the cops of St. Denis had been on them mere minutes after they'd held the place up. The whole thing had been a disaster, and then that goddamn stick shift in the trolley had jammed and they'd crashed and Dutch had hit his head…

Arthur glanced over at Dutch, noting the large purple bruises around the man's eyes. They were all lucky to make it out of that alive, but he'd taken an exceptionally nasty fall. Arthur rolled his own shoulders. They ached something fierce, had since he'd landed upside down in the corner of the roof of that trolley. A bad business they'd had of it, that was for sure. He was not looking forward to getting an 'I told you so' from Wilhelmina, either.

Hosea stood up when Dutch approached, eyes widening at the sight of the man. "Good God, Dutch. Get on in here and tell me what the hell happened! Miss Grimshaw! I need a bottle of whiskey and some tonics!"

Arthur and Willa watched as Hosea put a hand on the man's shoulder and walked him inside the house. Willa whipped around to face Arthur after the doors shut behind them. "What the hell happened?"

His eyes slid up to meet hers. "Nothin' good. Turned out to be a setup after all." He let out a humorless snort. "Guess I _should'a_ listened to your brother…"

Willa's eyes narrowed. She took a drag from her cigarette and turned to start lecturing him, but he stopped her with a raised hand.

"Listen. It's been a rough couple'a days. Dutch had a nasty fall back in the city, and he's gonna need a bit to get 'imself together, make sure he ain't really hurt. And…I think we could use a few days too. Will you ride out wit' me?" He gave her a serious look, blue-green eyes searching hers.

She blinked, deflating slightly. "I…you don't wanna stay here with Dutch?"

"He'll have the whole camp lookin' after him. 'Sides, ain't nothin' gonna get done without his say-so." He tentatively reached over to catch her fingers in his own, giving them a brief squeeze. "And I gotta get out of Lemoyne to pay off the bounty anyway…"

She grimaced slightly, still upset that he hadn't seemed to have absorbed much of what she'd said that morning. But she already knew what her answer was. "Despite my better judgment…I'd very much like to get out of Lemoyne with you, Mr. Morgan."

He gave her one of those sly smiles of his, all sparkling eyes and crows feet. "Good. You got a warm coat?"

She snorted. "How far outta Lemoyne do you need to go!?"

"Well, not that far. But I got some other stops planned…"

Willa cocked one of her eyebrows. "Alright…well, are we goin' now, or in the morning?"

"Let's go now. Should be able to make it to Van Horn 'fore it gets too late."

She dipped her head in acquiescence and tossed the end of her cigarette off the porch. "Alright then. Let me get my tent packed up and we'll go."

"I'll meet you at the horses in twenty minutes."

They made good time riding up through Bayou Nwa to Bluewater Marsh, skirting around the city by keeping to the west of it. The sun had dipped quite a bit in the sky, casting an ethereal golden glow over just about everything. They nodded hellos to a few folks as they passed through Lagras, and Arthur just had to stop and buy a few fishing lures from a woman who'd beckoned them over from her porch.

As they headed east to join back up with the road that headed north to Van Horn, Arthur suddenly pulled up on Llamrei's reigns and turned to start digging in his saddlebags. Willa encouraged Tulip to a stop and cocked her eyebrow at him. "What's the holdup?"

"Sorry…just gimme a moment. Think I just remembered somethin'." He rummaged some more, and finally pulled out a few faded photographs, sitting back up straight and shuffling through them until he found the one he'd been looking for. He flipped it over so he could skim over the hasty notes written on the back, then glanced up to his right at a shack that sat a ways back from the road, up on supports because it was built right on top of the damn swamp.

Willa looked at him, and then looked over at the house, and then back to him.

"Hey, listen, can we stop here for a minute? It's a…kind of a long story, but I told this fella back in Valentine I'd hunt down some old gunslingers for a book he's writin'. I think one of 'em lives here."

She let out a surprised chuckle, reaching up to push her father's old cavalry hat forward so she could scratch the back of her head. "Well, I guess so. What you mean by 'hunt down'?"

"Well, I'm supposed to ask 'em to tell me some stories about this one old fella, Calloway, but most of the ones I met've been fairly ornery 'bout the whole thing. I uh…had to shoot most of 'em. Hopin' this one might be different."

She rolled her eyes and nudged Tulip into a walk towards the shack. "Well, better to have some backup I suppose…"

He smirked behind her and urged Rei into a trot to keep pace. They left the horses at the start of a wooden walkway that led up to the shack, mounting the steps and heading up.

The door swung open a few inches, and they both startled and threw their hands up when the barrel of a shotgun poked out to greet them. "You there!"

Arthur came to a dead stop on the stairs and one of his hands went out in front of Willa in something of a shielding gesture, causing her to step back. "Whoa…hello?"

"You bounty hunters?"

"Not right now…you Black Belle? I'd like to talk to you, about your wild west days…"

The door opened a few inches wider to reveal an older woman clad all in black, who scoffed at them coldly. "I don't care much for reminiscin'…" She kicked the door open wider and emerged from the house, keeping the shotgun trained on them. "You got any friends is bounty hunters?"

Arthur took another step backwards, pushing Willa even further behind him. "None that spring to mind…"

Her eyes lifted from the two people on her walkway to look off down the road. "Well then you done led them boys here and you none the wiser."

Willa and Arthur both looked around, hands lowering as they saw the riders coming in from the west. "Ah, shit…" Willa reached for the pistol at her hip.

Black Belle lowered the gun. "Knew my luck'd run out sooner or _sooner_."

Arthur turned back to her. "Well get inside! We'll tell 'em you're gone!"

She raised the gun to point it at Arthur again, taking a step towards him. "Oh no, no…I ain't hidin' from them scalp hunters. Not runnin' from 'em neither. And fightin'? Well, if it's just me against them, that'd be a waste of time…and nitroglycerine."

Arthur dipped his head, hands back up in the air. "Well, let us know what we can do…"

She eyed him shrewdly. "You want that wild west story don't you?"

Arthur nodded. "Yes, I do."

"Alright…" Black Belle took a few steps backward towards the door she'd come out of, motioning an arm up to the porch. "Get up here quick, the both of you." Her eyes flicked to Willa. "Now when I give you the word, hit that." She pointed to a large plunger built into the porch railings. "Whole place is wired!"

They both looked at her with wide eyes.

"And you, sugar. You're on point with me." She winked at Arthur, strands of her ebony hair whipping out from underneath the black hat she wore as a slight breeze blew past them.

"Black Belle!"

They looked over to see three bounty hunters approaching, one of them holding up a poster. A few words were exchanged before the woman coaxed the men up far enough on the boardwalk to give Willa the sign to push down the detonator. She did as she was told, and a split-second later a huge explosion sent all three of the men flying from the boardwalk.

"Over here, they're rushin' us from the side!" Belle ran around the corner of the porch, ducking to take cover as a few shots whizzed past the railings and embedded into the side of the shack.

A fairly wild shootout ensued, even more bounty hunters rolling in with a Gatling gun mounted onto the bed of a wagon. Thankfully, Arthur and Black Belle both were faster than any of the men that kept on showing up. Arthur had leveled his revolver and barely even taken any time to aim before the bullet exited the barrel and went through the Gatling gunner's skull.

Willa was able to hold her own nearly as well though, and the three made a fairly clean sweep of the bounty hunters from their post on the porch, two continuously firing while one would drop down to quickly reload.

When the men finally stopped coming, Black Belle looked around before giving a satisfied woop. "Is that the last of 'em?"

Arthur holstered his revolver, glancing over at the older woman. "Yep…you got them scalp hunters off your back."

"Eh, for now…" Belle let the shotgun drop to her side and strode between Arthur and Wilhelmina, making for the door of the shack.

"So, you gonna tell me about your wild west days? Runnin' with Jim 'Boy' Calloway?"

"Little Boy Calloway!?" She erupted in condescending laughter before her gaze slid back up to him. "The only runnin' he did was away from a fight…and that's about the end of it."

Arthur and Belle exchanged some more quips back and forth as she went into the house and seemed to be packing a bag. She came back out a few minutes later, a sack over her shoulder and that shotgun still dangling at her side. Arthur and Willa followed her down the boardwalk as she called to her horse, slinging the bag over its rump before turning back to them.

"I'm gonna need your picture too, if it ain't a trouble?"

"No sir, no trouble at all."

"Great…just let me get this thing ready…" He reached down, fumbling in his satchel to pull out a medium-sized gray box. Black Belle did a pose, pointing her shotgun towards the sky, and Arthur snapped a photograph with the odd little camera. "Okay, got it…"

"Then I guess I'll be on my way."

"Wait, Miss Belle…" Willa took a few quick steps forward, chewing her lip and standing in front of the older woman before she could climb up onto her horse. "I just want to say…you're just about the most amazing woman I ever laid eyes on."

The older woman scoffed, waving a hand. Before she turned to her horse though, her eyes darted back and forth between Arthur and Willa and a sly little smile spread on her face. She reached up into the bodice of her dress and plucked out a key, tossing it over to Wilhelmina, who caught it in both of her hands and blinked up at Belle.

"I been runnin' for twenty years…suppose I'll be runnin' 'til I drop. Why don't you kids use this place, if you got any kind of a need for it. I certainly won't be comin' back here again!" She clambered up into the saddle, settling the shotgun across her lap.

Willa glanced down at the house key, then back up at Belle. "Th-thank you…"

"Good luck!" Arthur called after her as she rode off into the sunset.

They both turned to look at each other, then back at the shack. Arthur rolled one of his shoulders. "Well. Sun's settin' now. Guess it'd make sense to stay here tonight, keep goin' in the mornin'…"

Wilhelmina grimaced, turning to look at all the dead bounty hunters scattered across the property.

Arthur scoffed, shaking his head and making his way back toward the walkway. "Oh, don't you worry over none of them. Gators'll take care of that mess…"

She scrunched her nose up in disgust and quickly made to follow Arthur back to the shack, shoving the little key into her satchel to keep it safe. Belle had left in such a hurry she hadn't even shut the door of the house behind her, so they mounted the steps and went on inside without much of a fuss.

Arthur immediately set the camera down on a table and went digging through the cupboards, looking for something they could eat for supper. He pulled out some cans of vegetables and found some salted meat they could eat with it, setting them all on the counter beside the sink basin before standing back up and rolling his shoulders again, grunting at the sharp ache in his muscles.

Willa had gone out the back door to the porch for a smoke, leaning over the rickety old railing to watch the sun set off to the west.

Arthur joined her there a few minutes later, striking a match to light up his own cigarette. He found himself scanning the horizon, still wary of any more stray riders coming in. All seemed quiet though, except for the throaty trills of a few cranes and the repetitive croaking of the bullfrogs. "That woman was somethin' else, huh?"

Willa glanced over at him, brown eyes widening with obvious appreciation. "She was…incredible."

Arthur chuckled, shaking his head and taking a drag from his cigarette. "Yeah...if that writer knew what was good for 'im, he'd be makin' a book about her instead of drunk old Jim 'Boy' Calloway…"

Willa exhaled a small laugh, smoke pluming from her nostrils out into the golden glow of dusk in Bluewater Marsh. "That what your life is gonna be like, Arthur? Runnin' for the next twenty years, always lookin' over your shoulder for the next bounty hunter tryin' to put a bullet in your back?"

He sighed, leaning his hip against the railing as he turned to face her. "Probably? Though if I can make it look as good as Black Belle does…hell, it almost seems glamorous, don't it? _You_ got better plans for the next twenty years?"

Willa's brows furrowed slightly. "Never even thought about it. The last seven, I ain't thought about much past gettin' Everett in my sights again. Just sort of settled on the fact that we'd probably end up killin' each other, and that would be that…"

Arthur's mouth twitched, his voice lowering an octave. "That ain't true anymore though…?"

She snorted and shook her head. Suddenly she turned to face him, taking one last drag from her cigarette before tossing it out into the muddy water below them. "We could go east. There's plenty of country out there. Virginia, Vermont, Maine even. Arthur, don't you see? If your gang were to split up, it'd make it harder for those Pinkertons to find you…"

He exhaled a heavy breath of smoke, tossing his own cigarette over the edge of the porch and taking a step closer to her. "Sadly, I don't think that's gonna happen, darlin'…I'm already a hell of a lot further east than I'd like to be."

She sighed a little wistfully, taking her own step towards him and pressing up against his chest. Tentatively, she wrapped her arms around his midsection and stood there, half waiting to see if he'd move away from her. "But you'll follow Dutch to some tropical island halfway across the world…?"

He stiffened slightly when she put her arms around him, breath catching. He didn't quite understand why she still desired to be close to him; he felt like he'd done nothing but shoot her down time and again. His emotions were still torn in half about the poor woman, and yet for some reason she kept finding her way back to him, excusing his bad behavior. She had already proven that she would fight and kill for members of his gang; with her bringing Kieran back, she had solidified that aspect of her loyalty to them.

But could he take what she seemed to be offering? She'd said her loyalty was to _him_ , not to Dutch or even to the gang itself. He'd never had anyone in his entire life tell him anything like that. Dutch was always the savior, always taking in those lost souls stuck on the fringes of society with little or nothing to offer _except_ their unwavering loyalty. Dutch seemed to feed off of it, stoking the engines of his quest to loot and plunder that society he deemed so uncivilized. What would Arthur do with such loyalty?

It was all so much bigger than they were; and here she was, one lonely woman who had told one lonely man that of all the things in the great big, wide world she could put her trust into, she'd put it into him. He felt a gripping, dull ache in his chest that was fierce enough to match the one in his shoulders and he finally wrapped his arms around Wilhelmina, enveloping her with his bulk despite the heat of the air. "I don't know…"

She closed her eyes when his arms encircled her, finally letting herself relax into the sturdiness of his chest. "I'm sorry, Arthur. I ain't _tryin'_ to confuse you, or make you pick sides, or make you do nothin' you don't want to. I just…want to have a chance, I guess…"

"Don't you be sorry. I ain't exactly been forthcomin' wit' you. Can't help feelin' like you picked yourself a sorry lot to throw in with, is all…"

She finally peeled herself away from him, hands retreating from his back enough to hold him just underneath his ribs instead. "You _ain't_ sorry. How many times do I have to keep tellin' you? You're just a man, caught doin' a lion's share of work…and I ain't got the right to ask you to be more than that…" She pried her hands off his midsection to reach up and cradle his stubbled cheeks, pulling him down so that she could kiss him, slow and sweet.

Arthur felt his poor heart leap into his throat, his own hands sliding down her back to grab at her waist, keeping her right there with him in case she were to suddenly slip away like a fever dream. He knew he didn't deserve this, but his selfishness always seemed to get the better of him. What the future held he couldn't say, but for now, in this moment at least, he could let himself think that things might be okay. He could let himself pretend to be the man she saw him as.

When they finally pulled away from each other to breathe, he reluctantly let his hands fall from her to gesture back towards the shack. "Pulled out some food I found in the cupboards. We should probably eat some supper."

Wilhelmina nodded and took his fingers loosely in hers, leading him back into Black Belle's hideout to begin preparing some sort of a meal. He was fervently against trying to make the ingredients into a stew, so they sat and shared the salted meat and a few cans of vegetables they'd heated up over a small fire in companionable silence as night descended over the swamp.

A little while after they'd finished eating, Arthur had gone off outside to collect some water for them to wash up with and grab a few things from his saddlebags. He claimed he needed to check his map to mark their course over the next few days.

When he re-entered he found her lounging on the bed, back up against the wall with a book in her hands. Her boots were set aside on the floor and she had one knee curled up to her chest and the other leg extended across the bed, bare toes wiggling in the air, looking more at ease than he thought he'd ever seen her.

His eyes flicked to the camera on the table and he stooped to set the water bucket on the floor before reaching over to grab up the box.

Willa looked over, startled slightly at the loud click the camera made. She let out a low scoff, brows furrowing a little as she closed the book over her knee. "What are you doin'?"

He gave her a crooked, sheepish smile, walking over a bit closer and letting the camera dangle from one hand. "Dunno. Just thought you looked kinda nice, I guess…"

The corner of her mouth quirked up to flash him a hint of her own sheepish smile and she idly reached up to pull a wavy strand of ebony hair behind her ear. He thought she looked quite beautiful there, in the soft glow from the few lanterns they'd found and lit once it got dark. He held up the camera and snapped one more quick shot of her like that, a private and candid moment he thought he might like to remember forever.

"Don't you go wastin' all the film on me, Arthur Morgan…"

He smirked and set the camera back down, idly taking a few steps closer to the bed. "I got all those gunslingers I needed. Ain't nothin' else to use the film for. Guess I'd like to fill up the whole rest of it with pictures of you, if you were inclined to let me."

Her mouth twitched, and she suddenly started feeling that burning behind her eyes again. He had no conceivable idea how sweet she thought he was. She cleared her throat and patted a hand on the mattress. "Come sit with me."

He dipped his head, reaching up to remove his hat and his satchel and setting them down next to the camera before ambling over and taking a seat beside her, groaning and allowing himself to stretch out somewhat. "What you readin' there?"

She flashed him a small smirk, holding the book up. "'The Merry Adventures of Robin Hood'…found a copy in St. Denis a little while ago."

Arthur chuckled and let his head rest back against the wall. His brows drew down as he reached up to rub one of his shoulders. "Hope it ends well."

"Me too." She sat up straight and crossed her legs, setting the book down on the mattress beside her to study him. "Are you okay, Arthur?"

He glanced over at her out of the corner of his eye, huffing out a sigh. "We crashed a trolley tryin' to get out of the city…that's how Dutch hurt himself. Think I ended up better off, but I landed ass up all the same. Shoulders are hurtin' somethin' fierce is all, but I'll be okay."

She grimaced and waved a hand in the general direction of his chest. "Let me see."

His mouth pressed into a firm line. "Ain't nothin' to worry about…"

She gave him a pointed look before clambering off the bed to go fetch her satchel. "Let me see, you stubborn oaf. I got some salve somewhere, might take some of the edge off…"

Arthur rolled his eyes behind her back as he sat up and yanked his suspenders off his shoulders before unbuttoning his shirt. "Saw some beers under the sink, those might work better…"

She raised an eyebrow and nodded to herself, rummaging through her things for a minute before pulling out a small metal tin and turning around to stoop by the sink and grab those beers. When she returned, she held one of the bottles out towards him and set the tin and her own bottle on the windowsill beside her.

Arthur unsealed the beer and took a long drink from it, draining nearly half of it in one go. He'd set his shirt beside him on the bed, and she could already see a few angry bruises along his ribs and his collar. She shook her head, waving her hand at him again. "Alright, mister. Turn around. Let me see."

"Alright, alright. You sure get awful demandin' when you're comfortable…" He smirked to himself as he turned around to show her his back, but it fell quickly enough when he heard her gasp.

"Jesus, Arthur…" She snatched up the tin from the sill and twisted off the cap, leaning down to examine the huge black and purple bruise that had swallowed up just about the entirety of his broad shoulders.

She poked him gently and he winced, grunting. "We can be done here if that's all you're gonna do, woman…"

Her mouth tightened. "Sorry…" She dipped her fingers into the thick salve and scooped out a generous helping, smearing it onto the back of his neck and beginning to spread it out across his shoulders as gently as she could.

Arthur winced again and clenched his teeth, but a few moments later that sharp ache had dulled and was replaced with an almost pleasant, prickling feeling of coolness. He exhaled a heavy breath, glancing back at her. "What's in that stuff?"

"A few things…St. John's wort, cayenne, wintergreen…" Her palm made its way back and forth across his shoulders a few more times before she took a step back, re-sealing the little tin and setting it back on the windowsill. He'd just about finished off his beer, so she grabbed up the other she'd brought over and held it out in front of him. "Want this one?"

He hummed and set the first bottle down on the floor so he could take the fresh one from her. "Thank you kindly, miss…"

Willa watched him sigh and roll his shoulders experimentally, seemingly satisfied with the job the salve was doing. She couldn't help a soft expression crossing her face, and she kneeled on the bed behind him to slide her hands around his bare waist and press a gentle kiss to the spot where his neck met his shoulder.

Arthur inhaled sharply as this new contact sent a shiver running up through him. He sat stock still, clutching that beer in his hand as she continued; another gentle kiss placed at the back of his neck, then another just behind his ear. He swallowed thickly, feeling an old familiar stirring way down deep. His lips parted slightly, and he was just barely able to croak out a few words, mouth suddenly very dry for all the beer he'd just quaffed. "You still…wantin' me to show you what kind of a man I am…?"

The kisses stopped, and there was only silence for a moment. He felt her hand splay across his collar to encourage him to turn and lean back against the wall again, and when he acquiesced she moved to throw one of her knees across his legs so that she was straddling them.

Wilhelmina ran the fingers of one hand down over that mottled scar on his left shoulder, gently replying, "you already showed me what kind of man you are, Arthur. But…" Her eyes centered on his, searching, asking his permission as she leaned down closer to him. "I think I'd…like for you to show me how these things're supposed to be…"

He gulped in another lungful of air, letting the bottle slip from his fingers to roll across the floor of the shack, forgotten. His hands found their way to her hips and he pressed his fingers into the fabric of her trousers almost greedily. He didn't quite dare to pull her down or make any other sudden moves, as his brain was too busy hammering against the inside of his skull to the rapidly increasing tempo of his heart. All he did manage was a guttural "M'kay…"

She hesitated, chewing on her bottom lip for a moment before reaching up to cup his stubbled cheeks with her hands and dipping down to press her mouth to his. She licked softly at his lips, encouraging him to be a bit more…forthcoming. Arthur obliged eagerly enough, mouth opening for her, finally finding the wherewithal to lean up and press himself even closer to her.

Their tongues met a few times, kisses becoming uncoordinated as she sucked at his bottom lip and he nipped at hers with his teeth, his hands sliding from her hips all the way up to clasp her around her ribs, fingers pressing into her shoulder blades to pull her down.

She felt so safe with his hands wrapped around her, but with the way a churning heat had begun pooling low inside her it was quickly becoming not enough. She pulled back from his grasp just enough to start undoing the buttons of her own shirt, working at it clumsily in her haste to just be skin to skin with him.

When she sat up her hips moved down against his with a delicious friction and he couldn't stop a groan from tumbling out of his mouth. It was all he could do to let his head fall back against the wall, clenching his teeth and looking up through hooded lids as he watched her undress herself.

Once the last button was undone he pushed himself forward again, reaching up to gently sweep the shirt back from her shoulders and run his calloused palms back down her shoulder blades, splaying his fingers against her skin and fervently pressing his lips to every little scar of hers he could find.

A watery gasp escaped her as she realized what he was doing; it was nothing shocking in a physical sense, but the emotional impact of those lips touching _that_ skin was immense, indeed. She fumbled behind herself, trying to unhook the brassiere that was still clinging to her uncomfortably. When she finally got the hooks undone it slid down unceremoniously against his face and he easily grabbed it up and slid it off her arms so that he could throw it out of his way.

Without even missing a beat, Arthur's mouth found her breasts in the dim light thrown off by the lanterns, kissing all the scars that had been covered up the first time around.

Willa gasped again at the sensation of his hot mouth pressing against such sensitive skin and her hands found his shoulders, maybe clutching there a little harder than they should have. Her hips pressed down against him again and she could feel the heat of him down there, too.

Another groan rumbled through his chest as a surge of feverish desire coursed up through him. He grabbed her around one side of her ribs with one hand and around her hip with the other, pushing himself upwards and easily flipping their positions so that he was hovering above her, the length of her body now spread out on the bed beneath him.

Arthur dragged the hand that was on her ribs down over the taut skin of her belly, stopping himself just at her belt. His eyes flicked back up to hers; before he did anything else, he needed to be sure.

Wilhelmina's tongue darted out to wet her lips and she looked up at him like he was the damn moon again, answering his unspoken question by reaching her own hands up to start fumbling at his gun belt.

His mouth twitched into a lopsided half-smirk. He felt drunk on something, not quite sure what. He yanked her gun belt out from underneath her and swept it to the ground before taking hold of his own, once she'd unclasped it, and tossing that away too.

She found it easier when his hands left her to just continue the work on herself, undoing the buttons of her own trousers as he followed suit and undid his own. He leaned back on a knee, bending forward to hook his fingertips over the waistline of her pants and slowly draw them down off of her, sweeping those away as well once her legs were free.

Arthur sat back for a moment, gaze raking over the sight of her before him. A few more scars that he made a mental note to kiss. He stood up hastily to rid himself of the confines of the rest of his own clothes, hopping on one foot trying to yank his boots off.

Willa sat halfway up on her elbows and drew her knees together, unable to stop a few giggles at the boyish way Arthur was endeavoring to rid himself of the rest of his clothing. She felt a poignant wave of simple but substantial affection wash over her as she looked at him. It made that damn burning return to the back of her eyes.

Thankfully he was on her again in a moment, any tears that had been forming quickly seared away at the touch of his strong and sure hands. He didn't have to do much coaxing to get her to open her knees so that he could settle himself between them. He pressed his hands into the mattress on either side of her, lowering himself just enough so that he could press his lips to hers, almost chaste now. He could feel the heat radiating from her though, and it made him groan into her mouth.

Willa's hands found his lower back and pulled him down against her. She knew what to do well enough, even if it had been a long time since she'd done it. This was different, though; she wanted it. She wanted _him_. Unequivocally. One of her hands snaked down from his back, circling around his waist to cup the length of him in her palm, pressing him up against his own stomach for a few moments before her fingers curled around him.

Arthur pulled back from her slightly to hiss in a breath, shuddering and trying hard not to buck his hips like some inexperienced teenager. His eyes slid closed and he hung his head as her hand began gently stroking him, a smooth and repetitive motion that wasn't at all needed but certainly _much_ appreciated.

A few seconds later he couldn't help it though, that fever rushed up over him again and he did buck his hips down toward her, mumbling a low curse. He could feel the heat from her and his brain frenzied. He reached down to replace her hand with his own, fumbling for a moment before trying to line himself up with her in the dim semidarkness.

He pushed himself forward a little too hastily, however, and was met with some resistance. He stopped, panting slightly and placing one hand on the mattress beside her so that he could hold himself up. He looked down at Willa, tongue darting out to wet his lips. He didn't think he'd be able to, but he collected enough of himself to mutter thickly, "you gotta relax for me, darlin', if you want-"

She looked up into his eyes and nodded once, breath escaping heavy from her lips. "Yes…" His brow was furrowed slightly, a thin sheen of sweat already glistening across his suntanned skin. He had an intense, concentrated look in his eyes and she knew he was asking her if she was sure she wanted to keep going. "Yes."

She watched the muscles in his jaw working before he removed his other hand from between them and lifted it to his mouth. He'd collected some saliva and licked some of it up the length of his palm, gaze flicking back to her briefly as he did so. He cleared his throat and his eyes broke from hers when he reached back down to run his slippery hand up over the length of himself.

A feverish, cloying sensation began to blossom deep within her at the sight of him using his own saliva like that. Her mouth fell open slightly as she felt the heat of him pressing up against her again and she arched her back in unthinking response.

Arthur let out a low slow groan. It was so hot down there between her legs. His head was reeling as he lined himself up again and slowly, painfully slowly, eased himself into her.

Willa's mouth widened in a sharp and quiet gasp, and she actually surprised herself by arching her back again, bucking her hips up into his and causing him to exhale a shaky grunt as he found himself suddenly sheathed to the hilt. They both stayed very still for a few moments.

Willa couldn't quite wrap what was left of her thinking brain around the fact that the way he was stretching her, filling her up, was actually _pleasant_. She could hear herself panting already and they hadn't even really _done_ much of anything.

Arthur inhaled slowly and retracted his hips, screwing his eyes shut at the feeling the friction of it caused. It was almost overwhelming; and it had been so many years now, he wasn't sure how long he'd even be able to last.

When she felt him pulling away, her immediate reaction was to stop that. Her legs closed on his hips and her hands found the small of his back again, nails digging into the muscles there and pulling him back down as she rolled her hips up for a third time and closed that gap between them.

The suddenness of her clutching at him, pulling him back in, sent another uncoordinated grunt spilling from his mouth and he had to bury his face down into the hollow of her collarbone. He stayed there panting hot breaths against her skin for a few moments before remembering that he was supposed to be moving. He'd almost forgot he needed to.

His thrusts began slow, mostly steady and oh, so sinfully smooth with the slickness she had now cultivated for him. He heard a shallow moan escape Willa's throat and he had to force his eyes fully open; had to make himself stop and check that all of this was still okay. His voice cracked slightly. "A-ain't hurtin' ya…?"

Willa's breath came shallow. Her own voice sounded wavering and far away in her ears. "You? Never…" She ran her hands up from the small of his back, sliding one of them around to his front and up behind his neck, threading into his hair.

Arthur sucked in a shaky breath and hung his head, his chest rumbling against her as he started moving again, slowly, again. He needed to move slowly.

She traced her hand down around the line of his jaw, encouraging him to look up so she could pull him back into another kiss. His mouth opened for her readily this time and she moaned into it quietly, using her teeth to nip at his lips.

Arthur broke away from her with some effort, straightening himself up and hooking his hands under her hips so he could pull her flush against him as he placed one foot on the floor. Loud groans escaped both of them at the sudden change of position; at him being able to bury himself even deeper.

Willa tilted her head back against the mattress, tendrils of hair spreading beneath her as she gazed up at him through hooded lids. Breathily, she finally said, "take your pleasure from me, Arthur…"

His brows furrowed as he removed one hand from her hips to press his calloused thumb feather-light against her most sensitive spot, that little bundle of nerves he'd learned about years and years ago, fingers splaying up over her lower abdomen. At least Mary had been able to teach him something worthwhile…

He began thrusting again, a little harder and faster this time, pulling her against him with that hand on her hip while rubbing slow little circles into her with the other and waiting to gauge the response.

"Oh…!" Willa's eyes widened and she hissed in a little gasp, feeling the pulse of every little electric jolt that his thumb was coaxing out of her.

"Mm…" Arthur groaned again, low and slow, a little bubble of pride rising up within him. "Somethin' we're _both_ gonna take…if I got any say in the matter…" He clenched his teeth and screwed his eyes shut for a moment as a heady wave of pleasure rolled through him. God, she felt so good around him. He sped the work of his thumb up just a bit to compensate for how uncoordinated the movement of his hips had become.

Willa moaned beneath him again, hands reaching up to clutch at his arms and his midsection, any part of him she could reach. She wanted him as close as she could have him, could barely comprehend how good it could feel now that it was something she wanted so much.

She felt like the temperature at the very core of her was rising exponentially, like one of those horses waiting and waiting for the race to start and the shot to sound and the gates to open and suddenly they _were_ open and the hooves were thundering and the world was narrowing to a very pinpoint in front of her. "Oh, Arthur-!"

She clutched at his upper arms and pulled herself up toward him, bucking her hips into his and riding out the senseless pleasure of her orgasm with her face pressed into his shoulder, breath hot against the raised skin of his scar.

He panted and splayed one hand against the small of her back to keep her pressed up tight to him as he chased down his own release, thrusts coming shallow and uneven now as her muscles contracted deliciously around him. He exhaled a shaky groan, nuzzling his jaw against the side of her head.

"Jesus...such a good girl...ahh." Arthur inhaled sharply and fell into a string of mumbled praises and curses. He pulled her against himself a few more times, slowing and then finally stopping. His heavy breaths were puffing out strands of her hair. He felt shaky. He felt like he was ready to curl up and sleep with her beside him for the next twenty years.

She slowly raised her head from the crook of his neck, sliding a hand up from his arm to curl her fingers around the back of his head again and bring him to her for another kiss. They stayed like that for a few more moments, but it couldn't last long because he had to catch his breath again. He finally slid away from the exquisite warmth of her, standing up on slightly wobbly legs so that he could find a towel to clean them both up with.

Willa let herself drop back onto the mattress, taking a few deep breaths and letting one hand rest on her abdomen while she watched him. He yanked a towel off a stack he found inside a small bureau, getting himself cleaned up before returning to the bed to offer her his assistance.

She smiled rather demurely and took the towel from him, taking care of her own business before tossing it off across the room and reaching her hand out to him. He took her fingers loosely in his own and sank down onto the bed beside her.

Willa wiggled herself in under the crook of his arm, resting her head against his shoulder. "Thank you…"

He blinked, glancing down at her and caressing his thumb back and forth over her arm. He couldn't help a slightly incredulous tone when he asked, "for what…?"

"For showin' me how it's supposed to be." She tilted her head slightly to press her lips against his chest in a gentle kiss.

He hummed softly and exhaled a sleepy but contented sigh, tilting his own head down to press his lips into her hair. "Don't think you needed to be shown. Think you might'a known all along…"

Willa smiled against his chest, reaching up to wipe at her eyes with the heel of her palm before curling her arm around him.


	15. Roanoke Ridge - The Height of Romance

When Arthur woke the next morning, it was stiflingly hot inside Black Belle's little shack. He groaned and raised a hand to gently rub at his eyelids, going to roll over and put his other arm around Wilhelmina. His hand hit nothing but empty space and then the mattress and his eyes shot open. Suddenly, in the half-fog of his thoughts, panic struck him like a damn train.

He'd done it now. He'd drifted off to blissful post-coital sleep and left her with her own thoughts and she'd probably thought about nothing except what a lousy goddamn brutish hypocritical son of a bitch he was, and she'd up and left in the middle of the night just to get away from him and -

The smell of coffee suddenly hit his reeling senses and a weight settled itself onto the edge of the bed beside his waist. He whipped his head around to see her, dressed again in her pants with her blouse un-tucked and sleeves rolled up, a cup of that coffee held between both of her hands. She gave him a small smile and held it out towards him. "Mornin'…"

Arthur huffed a shaky breath out through his nose, sitting up on his elbows and taking the coffee from her gingerly to set it out of the way on the little bedside table. His eyes met hers, and he was fairly positive he looked about as pathetic as a man could get, but he didn't really care. He pushed himself up to capture her lips in a kiss.

A muffled little giggle escaped her and she cast her gaze downwards bashfully after he broke away. "What's that for…?"

He tilted his head, absorbed in the way the sun coming in through the window caught up in the highlights of her hair and seemed to make each little freckle dance across her cheeks. Humming softly, he replied, "just 'cause…you're 'bout the prettiest damn thing I think I've ever seen."

A flush crept up across her face and she finally raised her eyes to his, clear brown flecked with gold and sparkling in that lustrous sunshine. "C'mon Arthur, you ain't gotta patronize me just 'cause of what happened last night-"

His brows drew down and he moved one of his hands to place it on top of hers. "Do I look like the kinda man gets by on patronizin' folks?"

There was a pause as they both looked at each other before breaking out into a few low, knowing snickers. She cocked an eyebrow and he nodded, conceding. "Alright, alright, I do, but…wouldn't ever do it to you."

Her mouth curled up at the corner in a sheepish way and he thought about kissing it again.

"You don't want the coffee…?"

"Mm…" A low purr rumbled his chest and he leaned towards her once more, one hand sneaking up to paw at her waist. He nuzzled his face into the crook of her neck and inhaled deeply.

Her breath caught in her throat. The way he seemed to breathe in her scent like some kind of needy animal was stirring things within her. One of her hands bunched into the thin blanket that had pooled around his waist when he sat up.

"Somethin' else I think I'd like more'n coffee," he muttered into her breastbone, dragging his fingers up under the hem of her shirt.

Willa's lips parted and she reached up to thread her fingers through his hair, nails dragging across his scalp and eliciting another low rumble from him.

He angled his head to languidly trail kisses up her neck, over her jaw to the corner of her lips. She tilted her own head just enough to catch his mouth with her own, licking his bottom lip before grazing it softly with her teeth.

Arthur's responses were slow and languorous, still half-clouded with sleep, but he understood her silent acknowledgement well enough. The hand up under the hem of her shirt slid down and around to the front of her trousers, fumbling with the buttons there.

One of Willa's hands found his thigh, fingertips kneading into the muscles and sending little chills up through his nerves. He broke away from her as his hand rose to begin undoing the buttons of her blouse, focusing intently as each one fell open.

She chewed her lip for a moment, watching him, feeling desire rising within her again. A pleasant tingling, low and needy. Her palm slid from his thigh to press up against the length of him, which was currently making an impressive tent of that blanket.

Arthur erupted in a shuddering groan, the touch of her hand stoking that low fire that was already lit within him. He undid the last button and slid the blouse down over her shoulders. He'd never noticed there were freckles there, too. He leaned forward and began attempting to cover every one of them with his lips.

She sighed into his hair as his hands smoothed up her back, only to pause at the top and then make their way back down again. Suddenly her hand left him and she cupped his cheeks, angling his head back up to give him another quick kiss before prying herself out of his grasp. She stood up so she could slide her pants and underthings down her thighs, kicking them off to the side.

Suddenly she was more self-conscious of herself in the daylight than she had been the night before; every old wound laid bare for him to see. For a dangerous outlaw, he was hardly marked up at all save for that scar on his shoulder. His was a body chiseled from hard work and long days of riding and running. Hers, well…at least she had put some weight back on since she'd been eating with the gang on and off for the past month and a half; but she had as many scars as he had bullets in his bandolier, each one a physical reminder of everything her brother had taken from her.

Her mouth quirked and she hooked her fingers loosely together in front of herself. She couldn't help but wonder how she could ever compare with someone like Mary; if he would use her, and find her lacking in the wake of a woman such as that.

Arthur, of course, being a man – and a touch-starved one, at that – was not thinking about any of those things. In the back of his mind he idly wondered what he possibly could have done to get so lucky as this. A woman he fancied, _fancied him._ She liked him. She was honest with him. She could fight, and shoot, and talk shit with the best of them. And it finally felt like he had met someone whose affection didn't solely rely on what purpose he could serve them; he just was, and she accepted him. She may have wanted him to get out of his life as an outlaw, but she had still chosen to stick around even when he felt sure all he could do was disappoint. He would need to figure out that situation soon, though. Not right now, but soon.

Right now, his body ached to be with her again. He felt like he had all those years ago with Mary, giddy and yearning now that this final barrier between them had been broken. That feeling may have been the same, but Mary's name was far from his thoughts as he leaned forward, pushing the blanket from him and reaching out to grab up one of her hands. "Come back to me, darlin'…"

Her eyes finally flicked up to his, as if she'd been a thousand miles away instead of only a foot or so. She chewed her lip for a moment and drifted back in towards him, letting him lead her with his hand.

He cupped at her hip with his other palm and encouraged her to climb back onto the bed so that she was straddling him, knees planted on either side of his thighs. Leaning up, he planted a kiss at the hollow of her throat. "Where do you run off to, up in your head like that…?"

His gentle and persistent touches were enough to bring her out of the haze of her own mind. She scoffed and shook her head, placing her palms on either side of his collar. "No place worth mentioning…wastin' my time with ghosts and specters, 'stead of payin' attention to this nice, very handsome fella who I think might actually _like_ me…"

It was his turn to gently scoff as he smoothed his hand down from her hip, then brought it around to run it languidly up the inside of her thigh. "Still don't know why you're wastin' your time wit' _me_ …"

She hissed in a breath as he flipped his hand palm-up and his fingers dragged tantalizingly between her legs. He closed his eyes for a moment, letting his thumb find that little bundle of nerves again, the pad brushing across feather-light.

"You want me to tell you I think I'm wastin' my time…" She angled her head down to look him in the eyes and reached out to stroke up the length of him now that he was free of the blanket. "Or you want me to tell you what I _really_ think…?"

He hadn't stopped the ministrations of his own hand, and he almost reeled at the ease with which he was able to slip two of his fingers inside her. He bared his teeth, growling into her breast, her question all but forgotten.

She exhaled a shaky breath, eyes slipping closed. "I think…you're kind…"

"Ain't kind…" His thumb brushed back and forth against her and he gave her a little thrust with his fingers.

"Ahh…and handsome…" Her hand gripped him loosely now, caressing him in unhurried strokes.

"Ain't handsome…"

"Smart…"

" _Definitely_ not smart…" He thrust his fingers again, delighting in the way he could see her legs trembling.

"Mmm… _mostly_ honest…" She couldn't help marveling at how hot he was in her hand. She sped her pace up just a touch, fingers curling a little tighter.

He just erupted in a throaty chuckle at that one.

She suddenly lifted her hips, gently easing his hand out of the way and looking down at him. "And you do everything you can to help the folks you care about. And don't seem to expect a goddamn thing in return…"

He tried to think of something to say about how selfish he actually was, but he didn't get the chance. She moved closer, lined herself up with the hand that was already on him and sunk down, groaning at the sudden stretch. She was still a little sore from the night before, but now that she was well and truly caught up in all the giddy lovesickness she'd been denied as a younger woman, she didn't quite give a shit.

Arthur let his head fall back against the wall, trying to swallow another groan and failing miserably. "Jesus, woman…"

The corners of her lips turned up. She rolled her hips experimentally. "Mm…look at me. Finally figured out how to stop you badmouthin' yourself…"

Arthur's hands found her hips, encouraging the slow movement she'd begun. "Too damn clever for your own good…"

"Mmm…" She tilted her head back, letting his hands guide her into a slow bob. It seemed the time for talking was done. She'd rise and dip, rise and dip, and his hands were sliding up the planes of her waist to palm softly at her breasts, and her hands were splayed firmly against the taut muscle of his midsection, nails grazing every time she'd come down at a particularly good angle.

They marveled at each other, taking their time now that they were well and truly alone. He had to assume that the drama of being in a camp full of people was still something she was getting used to after being on her own for so long, and it didn't help their awkwardness with each other when they were trying to act normal around twenty-three other people. He'd never really thought about the fact that maybe they needed the space to find some kind of normalcy with each other first. He'd never really thought she'd stick around long enough to _merit_ thinking about it.

Arthur found himself making a foggy mental note that, if he ever happened to see Black Belle again, he would thank her profusely for handing Wilhelmina that house key. He was jerked back into clear reality when she bucked her hips down particularly hard against him before speeding her pace up. A low groan tumbled out of him as two of his fingers wandered back down to that spot between them, hoping to help her along. "That's a girl…."

"Oh, Arthur…!" She moaned as his fingers traced quick little circles around the very center of her, feeling those horses stamping their hooves at the gate again. She could feel it percolating, making its way boiling and bubbling to the surface; a white-hot burst of euphoria.

The sight of her starting to come apart above him almost put Arthur over the edge. That little bubble of pride from last night was back, teasing him around all the edges that _he_ was the one helping her feel this way; that she actually put enough trust in him to cast aside all the distasteful and abominable things that had been done to her in the past.

Her back arched and her hips stuttered against him as another low moan escaped her. He could feel her tensing around him, and this time it really was too much. All he could do was let out a shuddering grunt as he sat himself up and pulled her back down against him, getting himself as deep as he could, fingers digging into the flesh around her hipbones as his eyes screwed shut and he rode out his own climax.

She curled her arms around the back of his neck and held him there, panting and burying her face into the tousled hair on the side of his head. His breath fanned hot against her collar, and they both stayed that way for a minute to collect themselves.

Arthur stuck his tongue out to wet his dry lips, hands smoothing from where they'd been holding on so tightly. "Guess I could drink some coffee now…"

Willa laughed softly and planted a gentle kiss into his hair, untangling herself from around him and clambering off the bed to go fetch that towel she'd thrown across the room the night before.

Arthur missed the delicious warmth of her almost as soon as she'd pulled herself off of him. He sighed and leaned himself back against the wall, reaching over for that cup on the bedside table.

They spent the morning getting cleaned up and dressed, sharing a quick breakfast and discussing Arthur's plans for the next day or two. He still needed to ride into either Van Horn or Annesburg to pay off the substantial bounty they'd racked up in St. Denis the day before; apparently which town they stopped in didn't matter, as whatever little secret he was planning was carrying them north past Annesburg anyway.

He wouldn't give her many details about what he'd wanted to bring her along to see, but she honestly wasn't very concerned about it. The way she was feeling, she would have ridden a hundred miles just to jump off a damn bridge so long as he was jumping beside her. She knew they were currently doing a fantastic job of pointedly avoiding every single one of their problems, but she didn't have the heart to try and bring any of it up yet. She was too preoccupied with his little crooked smiles, and the way his fingers would sometimes loosely catch her own, or just brush up her shoulder or over her backside; touching her, however briefly, just for the sake of it.

Their ride was pleasantly uneventful, the horses carrying them northwards up through the hills of Roanoke Ridge after they stopped in Van Horn around midday. The sun shone down warm on them, but it was noticeably cooler up there in the highlands than it had been back in Lemoyne and they were both grateful for it.

Towards the end of the afternoon, Wilhelmina thought she could hear the sound of rushing water from off through the trees. Leaning down over Tulip's saddle horn and squinting her eyes to try and see through the foliage, she thought she spied the sparkle and shimmer of mist cast off from what might have been the bottom of a waterfall.

"Arthur, you think we could ride over there?"

He cocked an eyebrow at her, straightening up in his saddle and rolling his shoulders. They were aching again. "Well, sure…fella I spoke wit' said I should probably come by around night time, so we might have a few hours to kill…"

She tilted her head, ever more confused by this mysterious little trip they were taking. A smile crossed her face at his acquiescence though, and she guided Tulip further up the road, until the tree line broke and the rocky ground beneath them descended in a gentle slope. Lower down and curving around to their right, the rocks evened out into a flat plane, a magnificent waterfall carving a concave depression out of the rocky hill up above.

Her mouth fell open at the sight and she immediately urged Tulip down off the road, following that descent down toward where the smooth rock flattened out. She dismounted, Arthur following up behind, and began making her way closer to the rushing waterfall. There was a rainbow of colors shimmering in the mist kicked up by the endless surge of the water and she could immediately feel the moisture in the air on her exposed skin. "Oh, it's beautiful here…"

"Mm…"

The faint clicking sound of the camera caused her to turn around questioningly.

He just smirked rather sheepishly at her, that little gray box held up in front of his chest, the lens pointing in her direction. "Sorry…you're kinda cute when you ain't so concerned wit' bein' all tough."

Wilhelmina pursed her lips, planting her hands above her gun belt. "Well…so are you."

Arthur blinked and then barked out a laugh, turning to stuff the camera into Llamrei's saddlebag and digging around in there for his map. "If you say so…ah." He pulled out the folded up pamphlet and unfurled it, gaze focusing in somewhere in the northeast regions. "Think we're at…Brandywine Drop."

She cast her gaze back up toward the rushing water, squinting slightly. "Hey…" She made to get closer, clambering up a smaller incline that smoothed out to another flat plane above them. "Think this path goes all the way in behind it."

He cocked his eyebrow again, sighing and carefully folding the map back up to tuck it into his satchel. He'd made a mental note that there was supposed to be some prime game up in these woods, and he figured it might behoove them to return to camp with _something_ to show for their being gone a few days. But for right now, he supposed he could follow Wilhelmina around this enchanting little waterfall of hers and ogle her backside while he did it.

She continued leading him on, the spray of mist becoming more substantial the closer they came to the rushing water. It was loud too, the roar of it echoing off the smoothly rounded stone walls of the odd little cave-like space. It was dim and pleasantly cool in that place behind the waterfall, moss growing in thick patches under their feet and all across the stone. She plucked the cavalry hat off her head, holding it against her chest as she looked around almost reverently. "Amazing…"

Arthur hummed, hooking his hands over his belt. He'd seen plenty of waterfalls, though never had much time or opportunity to climb in behind one. He liked that she liked it, though. But he wasn't much of a fan of how clammy he was getting from all that incessant residual spray.

"You think anybody else would bother comin' back here?"

Arthur blinked, looking up at her with a quizzical expression and scratching under his chin. "I…I dunno, only if they wanted to get uncomfortably moistened up, I suppose…"

A quick little smirk illuminated her features as she crossed the few strides of space between them.

"Why're you-?"

Her lips were upon his before he could even finish his question, suddenly hungry and demanding. His words sputtered out into muffled mumbles against her, fingers twitching in a single moment of confusion before realization started dawning on him and he unthinkingly snaked them around her waist. He took a few steps backwards, relenting to her sudden assertiveness as she pressed him up against the cold wall of stone at the back of the waterfall. "Wha… _here_!?"

She shrugged quickly, tossing her hat off to the side so she could start undoing the clasp on his gun belt. "Private enough, ain't it…?"

He scoffed, raising his eyes to the roof of the cave as she let the belt drop to the ground, yanking his suspenders off his shoulders and moving on to fumble at the buttons of his pants. He couldn't say he was entirely displeased with the direction this little side quest in their adventure had taken. He groaned when she reached into his pants to slide her hand along the length of him, eyes finally sinking back down to earth so he could see what he was doing as he fumbled to remove Wilhelmina's encumbrances from her.

Her own belt dropped to the ground and she let her fingers trail all the way up to the tip of him before removing her hand so that she could hook her fingers into his waistband and slide his pants down enough to free him.

Arthur growled, that carnal fever heat resurfacing in him with a vengeance. He took her by her waist and pulled her around beside him so that she was facing the wall and he was stood behind her, fingers bunching into the fabric of her pants and yanking them down so that he could finally touch bare flesh.

She bit her lip, planting her palms against the cool rock to support herself and angling her behind up at him, pressing herself back against him and feeling him there behind her, eager and ready. He took himself in his hand, lowering and adjusting himself just a bit so that he could get up underneath her and find that exquisite warmth he so desired. After a moment he was there, puffing out a hot breath against the back of her neck as he gripped her hips.

Willa moaned, pushing at the rock and giving him a delicious counteraction. The angle was undeniably awkward for both of them, but physics and height differences were not currently worth fretting over in their frenzy to be joined with each other. He nuzzled into the back of her neck, muttering sinful things as he began to move, hips rolling into hers with a rougher pace than he'd presented the night before.

One of her hands clenched into a fist and she hung her head, gasping every time he pulled her hips against him. It certainly wasn't rough enough to be painful, but she had gotten him down to business quickly enough that he had taken that pace and run with it. She tried to angle herself a bit higher for him and cried out as he hit a sweet spot, feeling that tidal wave of pleasure starting to arc within her.

He stuttered somewhat at the sudden sound she made, chest pressed firmly to her back, almost coming to a stop as he mumbled, "alright? I ain't-?"

"Don't you dare stop!" She cut him off mid-question and pressed herself back into him, rolling her hips upwards as much she was able. A loose groan tumbled from him and he nodded into her shoulder almost senselessly, driving his hips back in toward her and snaking one hand around her front to assist her with his fingers. It only took a few more minutes of this combination before she was crying out again and burying her face into her bent elbow, muttering his name liker a prayer in between shallow breaths.

So far he'd been sure he could die happy every time she'd cried out his name like that, and this time was no different. Arthur picked up his pace again, feeling his own muscles tensing up even as hers were now tensing around him. "Goddamn…"

Another minute or so and he was stuttering against her back, sucking in desperate and heavy breaths. He managed to break away from her just in time, spilling himself onto the ground between them and exhaling a few breathy curses as he did so. He tilted his head back, planting one hand on his hip while the other reached up to mop at his forehead.

Willa sighed against the rock, finally pushing herself away from the wall to reach down and tug her pants back up. She bent down to retrieve their belts and caught him just as he was tucking himself back into his own trousers. She flashed him a demure and satisfied little smile, crossing the distance between them to lean up and press her lips to his.

He shook his head slightly, a soft chuckle escaping him. He broke away from her after a few moments, taking a few more deep breaths and trying to get a word in. "Greedy little thing, ain't you…?"

She closed her eyes, exhaling another soft sigh against his lips. "You only got yourself to blame for that…"

He clicked his tongue as she handed him his belt, taking it and wrapping it around his waist so that he could do up the clasp. "Didn't know I'd be makin' a damn monster," he replied half-jokingly.

She cocked an eyebrow at him as she got her own belt situated, checking her pistol before striding over to grab her hat up off the ground. "You just grumpy 'cause you're all 'uncomfortably moistened up' now?"

He barked out a laugh as he reached down into his satchel to grab his cigarettes. He held the little container out towards her, and she plucked one out.

"Thanks. Better get outta here before they get soaked." She set the hat back on top of her head and grabbed up his fingers with her own, leading him back out from their dim and cool little hideaway.

As they made their way back into the afternoon sunshine, Arthur struck a match to light her cigarette before lighting his own, waving it out and tossing it away before stretching his arms out to his sides and rolling his shoulders. "So uh…pretty sure our final destination ain't too much farther north from here. There is one other spot I'd like to check out first though, 'fore it gets too dark."

"Yeah?"

"Supposed to be good huntin' at a little lake up past here. Hosea gave me a map with some certain special animals marked off on it."

"Special animals?" Willa cocked an eyebrow and took a slow drag from her cigarette as they made their way back to the horses.

"Them as other folks ain't been able to catch. Too old and too clever, I guess. Old and _big_. It'd be good to bring somethin' back to camp wit' us, and there's this trapper fella I met who'll make things outta the pelts."

She shrugged her shoulders, giving him a nod. "I'll go anywhere you want, Arthur."

The corner of his mouth quirked and he felt that little bubble of pride inflating again. She had spoken so nonchalantly, but those little words left a big impact. He cleared his throat and dipped his head, hooking a foot into one of Rei's stirrups to pull himself up.

They ascended the little slope and made their way back to the road, venturing further north and following the water until they hit railroad tracks. The tracks cut through the middle of a quiet lake with another wider waterfall endlessly spilling into one side of it from a stream higher up. It was just about as beautiful as Brandywine Drop, though sadly lacking in the privacy department.

Arthur pulled up on Rei's reins so that she'd stop, cutting his arm out to his side to motion for Willa to do the same. He glanced over and caught her eyes before extending his arm out in front of him, pointing towards the other side of the lake.

She looked in the direction he was pointing and spied just about the biggest bull moose she thought she'd ever seen in her life. And the thing was as white as snow, standing out in stark contrast to the various earthy tones of the landscape surrounding it. The rack of antlers that splayed from atop its head had to be at least six feet wide.

Her jaw dropped.

Arthur carefully turned in the saddle, going to retrieve his rifle from where it was stowed at Rei's side.

Willa hissed at him in a low tone, not wanting to spook the majestic creature. "Arthur! You really wanna shoot him!?"

He blinked, turning to look back over at her and responding in a whisper. "Well, yeah."

Her brows drew down as she extended a hand out towards the moose. "It's like somethin' out of a goddamn fairytale! We can go get a couple regular old deer and bring back the same damn amount of meat!"

"But…that thing'd get you a damn leather coat that reached down to your ankles!"

She leveled a pointed look at him before returning her gaze to the snowy white ungulate still bent down to drink from the lake, either unaware of their presence or not at all phased by it. "I don't even look good in white, Arthur. I ain't no blushing mountain bride."

He chortled softly at that, breaking his own stare from her to look back at the moose. It _was_ a fairly magnificent specimen. "That you ain't."

"Draw a picture of it. Or _take_ a picture of it with that fancy camera. But don't shoot it. Please? He's made it this long. Doesn't that count for somethin'?"

Arthur sighed and glanced all around them, taking in the amount of light they had left. He supposed he'd have enough time to catalogue the huge animal in his journal. He flipped open his satchel and retrieved the leather book and his pencil, clicking his tongue and urging Rei forward at a slow pace so he could get a better look at the moose to sketch it out.

Willa gave him an appreciative nod, guiding Tulip to follow up a ways behind him. She leaned herself down, crossing her arms over the mare's withers and giving her neck an affectionate rub. She watched Arthur drawing the white moose until the sun was too low in the sky for him to see well enough, and the journal made its way back into his satchel.

A loud crack of thunder suddenly startled them both, and each turned their heads to look in the direction it had originated. Dark clouds were rolling in from the east, chasing that sunset with a vengeance. Arthur scowled, straightening up in the saddle and reaching up to adjust his hat. "Thinkin' it's about time we got headed."

Willa nodded. "This place ain't far, you said?"

"Nah. Think if we follow this road we're on, we'll come right up on it shortly."

"Let's go then."

They followed the road across the shallower part of the lake and around to the west, but shortly the storm had come upon them. Wind howled and the rain lashed down, soaking them both quite thoroughly. They'd managed to get coats on before the worst of it, but thankfully they came up on a fork in the road sooner than she'd thought and Arthur guided them off toward the right.

She could see a huge warehouse of sorts lit up at the end of their path, with some kind of odd tower emitting pulses of low light behind it. She had to yell over the wind and the rain for Arthur to hear her. "Arthur? Where the hell are you takin' me!?"

He glanced back at her, squinting against the rain. "Ain't sure, to be honest! Met this fella back in St. Denis! Thought he was a…toymaker, or somethin'! Had this little toy boat I played around with!"

She shook her head, a bewildered look crossing her face as they pressed on toward the brightly lit building.

Arthur furrowed his brows, suddenly realizing he probably sounded like a goddamn maniac. "The fella's some kind of inventor, I think! Talkin' about energy and sources of life and all sorts of stuff I didn't understand! Thought he might have somethin' here that'd impress you, I guess!"

They stopped and hitched the horses out front, quickly dismounting and running up to the huge double doors. Arthur banged on one of them with his fist, but received no answer. He tried the latch and it was locked. "Goddamnit."

They huddled in on themselves, skirting around the building and trying every damn door until they came around the back. Finally, this one was unlocked and he thumbed the latch and ushered her on inside before following close behind.

It was definitely some kind of laboratory, full of huge whirring machines and strangely glowing electrical devices, and wiring hanging down from the ceiling and draping haphazardly across the floor. There was a huge cage in the center of the room. Willa thought it resembled some kind of medieval torture chamber, but bit her tongue before she said anything. Arthur was trying to impress her, after all.

"Where do you find these people, Arthur?" She hugged her arms around herself, trying to shake some of the water off.

"Ain't like I go lookin' for 'em…hello!? Anybody here!?" He wandered further into the laboratory, gazing around with his mouth hanging slightly slack.

Suddenly the piercing whine of feedback had them both cringing, and a voice that sounded like more static than man emanated from somewhere in the huge building. "If you are here to rob me, I wish to make clear that I have weapons that could liquefy each of your internal organs in turn and leave you just a puddle on the floor."

Arthur wandered around the huge cage, moving towards a few rooms off to the side. Willa followed along close behind him, eyes widening at the horrifying scenario that odd voice with the lilting accent had presented them with.

"Professor, I ain't here to rob you. It's me…" He ducked into one of the rooms, finding the little European scientist, Dragic, huddled up close to the floor, his face buried in a huge microphone. "I helped you at the pond…?"

"You did?"

Arthur's brows furrowed when the man didn't notice him standing right there, so he banged his knuckles against the door to get the fella's attention.

Dragic flew up, eyes widening in something like recognition. "Oh! You did!" He was still holding that damn funny microphone, voice echoing out into the entire building. "The buffoon! Hello! Eh…" He glanced down at the microphone and hastily set it aside on a table already piled haphazardly with scribbled notes and various bits of machine parts.

"Eh…I hope we're not disturbin' you…"

"Of course you are disturbing me, buddy…" Dragic strode out past him with a sudden air of superiority, affording Wilhelmina only a passing glance. "I almost solved biggest problem and you mess it up!"

"I did…?"

"No, but I did…I can't get the bloody conductor straight!" Dragic zigzagged through the lab, going on about geometry and theories of life before going into another room and coming out with some odd metal rods clutched in his hands.

Wilhelmina trailed behind the two men, utterly confused about what was going on. Although, she was pretty damn sure Arthur felt the same way. He had a baffled, boyish look that just would not leave his face as he stumbled through the lab after the professor. She thought the whole trip was probably worth it just for that.

"I don't understand…"

"Of course you don't. Help me adjust these things and I will show you what I mean. Here! Take these…" He shoved the rods into Arthur's hands.

"Whoa, well, I…I'm not much of a scientist…"

Dragic picked up a cylindrical device. "Well, you are an American. Science is far beyond you, but…" He placed the cylinder into Arthur's already full hands and pushed him back over towards the doors. "You make a fine buffoon! Go!" He opened one of the doors and ushered Arthur outside.

Wilhelmina frowned at the door as Dragic shut it on Arthur, then watched the professor make his way back toward the room where they'd first found him. "Hey, wait a minute! There's a goddamn storm out there…!"

"Yes, thank you lady buffoon! I know!" He took up the microphone and began speaking into it again, presumably so that Arthur could hear him outside. The professor directed him to use the 'detector' to figure out where to plant the 'conductor rods' in order to harness the power of nature to make life. Whatever the hell that meant.

Willa grimaced in utter confusion, going over to one of the windows and peering out to check if she could see Arthur out there through the storm. She thought she could see a light bumbling around way up on the hill behind the lab, but a violent strike of lightning blinded her for a moment. She turned and stalked back towards where Dragic was, bunching her fists at her sides. "I swear to God, the Devil, and everybody else if you get that man killed I will string you up by your feet and flay you, you creepy little bastard!"

"Er…" Dragic spoke a bit closer into the microphone. "Chop, chop! Lady buffoon is impatient! I repeat…" She picked up some kind of metal device off a table and threw it at him. He ducked just in time, his free hand going up weakly to try and protect his face. "Please finish placing conductors and hurry back so Marko Dragic does not get flayed alive, please! Thank you!"

They both looked over when the door opened and Arthur came back in looking like a damn wet dog. Dragic flew out of the room he'd been cowering in. "Wonderful!"

"I wish I ever went to school so I had a clue what was goin' on…" He handed the detector back to Dragic as the man ran over to him. "What now?"

Dragic made his way over to a few control panels, flipping various levers as he moved. "Now, I become the second creature after God himself to bring life to this earth! Like this!" He grabbed the handle of the last lever and swung it down dramatically, but absolutely nothing happened. He leaned over and rapped his knuckles impatiently on one of the readout panels.

Arthur glanced around. "Am I missin' somethin'…?" His eyes met Willa's, and he shrugged slightly at the look of intense uncertainty he received from her.

Dragic looked completely puzzled for a moment before his eyes widened in realization. "The switches! The bloody switches!" He placed a hand on Arthur's arm to usher him back towards the doors, but Willa jogged over and grabbed Arthur's other arm before he could get shoved back out into the rain.

"Oh no. Whatever it is, I'm doin' it this time!"

"Ah, yes, two assistants! Even better than one! Okay, you, angry lady…" Dragic took a step forward and opened the door that looked out on that large electrical tower. "Climb up there and adjust the switches for me. Go, quick please!"

Arthur gave her a look that told her she absolutely did not have to go out there and do that, but she just sucked her teeth and shook her head, striding out through the door to go climb that godforsaken tower. She grumbled and cursed to herself the whole way up the ladder, and almost had a heart attack when she finally got the damn circuit breaker figured out and a bolt of lightning arced down to strike the huge conductor that jutted up through the center of the steel framing.

"It's working! It's working! Come down here, quick!" She heard Dragic's voice echo over that loudspeaker and her eyes narrowed. Arthur was going to catch hell for this once they were well and away. As she shouldered the door back open, she caught sight of the scientist running back over to one of the control panels to begin flipping levers again. "Are you ready!?"

She reached up to take off her hat, shaking it to get the water off. "I guess…"

Arthur moved over to stand beside her, one damp hand at the small of her back. "Second time lucky, yeah?"

"Second time? Huh. More like seven thousandth…" Dragic hurried over to that big cage in the middle of the room, opening the door at the front and going inside. "This is my life's work…and it is incredible!" He reached up to yank a tarp off the indiscernible shape that sat in the center of the cage, revealing some kind of a…metal man.

Arthur and Wilhelmina's eyes both went wide. She took a few cautious steps forward as his hand fell away from her to clasp at his belt. "It's like…the Steam Man of the Prairies…or Frankenstein's monster…" Her brows suddenly drew down and she whipped her head to look at Dragic, who had left the cage to return to the control panel beside them. "That thing ain't full of human parts is it!?"

"Full of…what!?" The professor afforded her a brief and bewildered look before throwing the biggest lever on the panel. Suddenly bright blue and purple flashes of electricity started arcing down towards the metal man from the relay machines in the ceiling, and two lights on its 'face' lit up like lantern eyes.

The professor let slip a somewhat hysterical laugh as the metal man stutteringly lifted up one of its arms. " _H-he lives! My son lives!_ "

It began to slowly move away from the vertical table it had been leaned against, and Arthur had no idea who the hell the Steam Man of the Prairies was, so he afforded Dragic a questioning glance. Sounding unimpressed, he asked, "What is it?"

"It is life itself!" He turned his gaze back to his creation, which had by now managed to lift up both of its arms. "Look at him…isn't he wonderful!?"

The thing pushed itself away from the wooden support, taking a few halting steps forward towards them before losing whatever balance it might have had on those rod-like legs and unceremoniously dumping itself forward onto the ground.

All three of them stared at the heap on the floor as it twitched, one of its arms breaking off to roll a few inches. Steam started pluming up from a couple of the seams around its head.

Arthur blinked, sucking in a small breath before glancing over at the professor. "S'that it?"

Wilhelmina snorted and quickly lifted a hand to cover her mouth.

Dragic looked up from the thing on the floor. "For now." He suddenly let out a small, excited wheeze of a laugh before turning to switch off all the levers on the control panel. "I am so happy!"

He strode over and knelt next to his metal man. "You just saw creation's second birth!"

Arthur furrowed his brows, extending a hand to vaguely wave in the direction of the cage. "I just saw a machine waddle a few steps…"

Dragic shook his head, looking down almost reverently. "I have a son! I am the luckiest man alive! I…those _morons!_ " He bellowed in sudden hostility, clenching his fists. "They doubted me…"

Arthur's mouth slid into a firm line and he briefly shook his head, reaching out for Willa's arm so he could lead her towards the door. "We'll uh...see you later…"

Willa blinked. As they made their way to the doors, she glanced back at the professor. "Hey…don't forget about what happened to Victor Frankenstein!"

The storm finally seemed to be letting up, cracks of thunder coming few and far between as the rain only drizzled now. They walked over to the horses, both huddling under their hats again.

Willa hooked a foot into one of Tulip's stirrups. "This your idea of romance, Arthur Morgan?"

He exhaled an exasperated laugh as he hauled himself up into Rei's saddle. "I honestly don't know _what_ the hell this is, darlin'…m'sorry I dragged you all the way out here."

She smirked, shaking her head as they turned their horses and made to join back up with the road. "I guess it was _sort of_ impressive…and anyway, now we get to find somewhere to pitch a tent and keep each other warm for the rest of the night, right?"

He hummed in agreement, already feeling his soaking skin beginning to warm at the thought. "Maybe this _is_ my idea of romance."


	16. Shady Belle - Two Steps Back

The next day Willa and Arthur took their time getting up. It was cool up there near the grizzlies, and neither of them was in a rush to untangle themselves from the warmth of the other. They'd found a nice little clearing just on the western side of Brandywine Drop, and with the flap of the tent blowing open in the breeze they were afforded quite a stunning view of the waterfall as it crested the edge of the rocks and flooded downwards in the morning sunshine.

She leaned up on her elbow, glancing over at him as she trailed her fingertips idly over his bicep. "You know, Hosea asked if I'd join up with the gang just before you got back from that trolley fiasco…"

"Mm…?" Arthur cocked an eyebrow sleepily, tilting his head to glance over at her. He had one arm curled underneath his head, the other hand reaching up to scratch at the scar on his shoulder. "What'd you say?"

She sighed. "You know what I said. Dutch…I just can't, Arthur. I don't know what it is, exactly. Him, and that fella you said was like your father for twenty years, I just can't seem to place both of 'em as the same person, I guess."

"Hosea's always been more like…like a _real_ father, I guess. Dutch is…somethin' else. Don't quite know how to explain it. But him and Hosea, they _saved_ me. Took me in when I was just a kid…didn't have nothin' else. But things _was_ good for a long time. And I ain't exactly been comfortable wit' a lot of the things we been doin' lately, but…loyalty to them's all I got. It's just about all I've ever believed in."

"I understand. I know you want to look after your family. But…is it wrong of me, to not wanna go back?"

He raised his eyebrow again. "Wrong?"

She smoothed her palm against his chest, putting some pressure there as she angled herself up a little straighter on her elbow. "I _like_ bein' out here with you. Just you. These past couple days, they been…" Her eyes broke away from him as she tried to figure out the best way to describe it.

His mouth quirked into a sheepish little half-smile and he covered her hand with his, curling his fingers around the edge of her palm. "Ah, I know what you mean...no, it ain't wrong to want that…"

"But we can't…"

He breathed out a sigh at the way she said it so reluctantly. "You tellin' me you're ready to be done chasin' your brother?"

Willa's brows drew down. "I thought about it. But he's out there, causin' trouble for folks…probably stealin' more of those poor kids off the street as we speak. I think about that, or I think about him finding some other poor girl to whore out to his gang, and…I can't give it up."

He angled his head up so he could look over at her. "You know I still wanna help you, right?"

She closed her eyes for a few moments. "You know that…that if you _don't_ want to, or can't…it's not…I mean, it won't make me think any less of you. You know _that_ , right?"

His brow furrowed, and it was his turn to remain silent for a few moments. "I still can't figure out why your brother told me Bronte was settin' us up. Never claimed to be smart. I just always done what I was told to do. Shoot, rob, kill, beat folks. But lately, it seems like…like my havin' doubts about things that've ended up goin' wrong, is gettin' _blamed_ for those things goin' wrong. Dutch and Micah both barkin' at me about my lack of _faith_. Guess I…I don't know, I still feel like just _help_ is all I got to offer. Another gun. Somebody to take the weight of that killin' off your shoulders…"

"The weight of that killin' is mine to bear, Arthur. I know Mary came back into your life askin' you for help, and that…well, she's got her own reasons for why ever she did that. I ain't used to askin' people for help…ain't even _had_ anybody I could ask. And with how you already run yourself ragged for Dutch…let's just maybe agree that if we get into a situation where you _can_ help me, then you'll help. But…if you insist on goin' through with this robbery, and followin' Dutch to the end, then you gotta be okay with me takin' an opportunity to go after my brother."

"Now come on, that ain't fair. I never go out alone on that kinda business, I _always_ got somebody ridin' with me. If we rob that bank, it's gonna be with all the men we got. We watch each other's backs. That's the _least_ I could do for you." His voice softened as he rolled over onto his side, still holding her hand in his. "You ain't alone in this no more…"

Arthur prevented her from saying anything in response by capturing her lips in a kiss. He didn't like talking about such serious dynamics. Wasn't ready for the inevitable ultimatum of 'me or them.' That's what it had come down to with Mary so many times before, and so many times he had questioned himself whether or not he'd made the right decision. It was impossible for him to turn his back on Dutch and Hosea, but what had it gotten him? He'd been with them so long, he didn't know any other kind of life. There was no other dynamic he could picture himself fitting into.

So they made love again, there in the tent beside Brandywine Drop, both knowing it might be the last chance they got before heading back to Shady Belle and the uncertainty of the future. It almost felt like having to say goodbye, after they'd finally gotten the chance to settle so much of the tension that had been lurking between them. They were slow and tender, wanting to draw it out, wanting to make it last. At this point, it was them comforting each other just as much as it was wanting to feel good, or wanting the other person to feel good. It was being able to let go of their fears and worries and pretend like they were the only two people on the planet, just for a little while longer.

When all was done, they ate a meager breakfast and made sure the horses were fed and brushed before packing up the camp and heading south. They followed the western side of the Kamassa River, stopping briefly once they reentered New Hanover to bag a couple deer to bring back to the camp. Otherwise, the ride was mostly quiet and contemplative.

Willa couldn't help her anxiety rising the closer they got to Scarlett Meadows. She was worried about Dutch kicking her out, and Micah had already made some fairly pointed comments to her regarding it. She was worried about the bank robbery. She was worried that the cops in St. Denis were already aware of Dutch's gang. She was worried about trying to go back to hiding what her and Arthur were. Sometime in the late afternoon, Willa was startled out of her thoughts when he spoke up from off to her left. "Miss Thorne? W-Willa? There's somethin'…somethin' I feel like you should know."

She slowly pulled up on Tulip's reins, guiding the horse to a stop. Arthur didn't sound right. She felt her stomach sinking. It flipped first, lurching sickeningly, and then sunk. _This is it_. _This is where he tells me I'm no Mary. 'Sorry darlin', I just can't pretend_ _…'_ No. She tried to cut off that rotten arm of thought before its fingers could sink in and take hold. Trying to keep a straight face, she let one hand rest on the saddle horn in front of her and shifted herself to look over at him. She thought she could hear the tendons in her own neck creaking in the awful silence that fell heavy around them.

Arthur had brought Rei to a stop, reins still clutched loosely in his hands, slumped forward slightly like that silence was weighing him down, too. "I…" He stopped himself to take a deep, steadying breath before his gaze cut away from her and the words started spilling out. "The night of Jack's party, when I said there was some of us as weren't meant to have kids, I…I said that because I…had a son, once…"

Willa blinked. That was quite possibly the farthest thing from what she'd been expecting to hear. She almost wasn't sure she'd heard him right. She quickly wet her lips, voice lowering even though they were the only ones on the road. "You _had_ a son…?"

He cleared his throat uncomfortably and nodded once. "Isaac. He, um…he and his momma got killed. Long time ago now."

"...Why're you tellin' me this now, Arthur?"

His eyes finally returned to hers, and she could see the pain there easily. All those ghosts she'd thought she'd seen those months ago when they'd first met, finally come calling. "Well, you…you trusted me to tell me all them things, and it…it's a pretty goddamn ugly part of who I am, and if you insist on carryin' on wit' me, then it's somethin' you deserve to know about…" The words spilled out again, gruff and halting in his attempts at reining back his own feelings but still needing to get it out.

She was silent for a few moments, worrying her lip with her teeth. "…What happened?"

"She was a waitress I met, back when we was still out west. Eliza."

Willa swallowed. Suddenly Grimshaw's words from the other night came back to her. _He don't go chasin' after women since that stuck-up Mary Gillis, or that little one, Eliza._

He looked down at Rei's withers, the brim of his old gambler hat obscuring his eyes from her. "It was just one night, but…that was all it took. She knew what I was…didn't ask me to stay. But I'd try to ride in every couple of months to give 'em some money, at least. That went on for a couple of years, until…one day I rode up, and wasn't nobody there. Just a couple wooden crosses outside, crows roostin' over top of 'em…"

She heard him sniff softly. "I went inside and checked. Whole front room was covered in blood." He clutched at the reins still in his hands, squeezing and pulling them taut. "Folks in town said bandits had come through, robbed a whole bunch of folks, killed a few more. Somebody from town found 'em, took the time to put 'em in the ground…"

She sucked in a heavy breath. "Oh, Arthur…"

His head snapped up and he met her gaze with a steely one, mouth pressed into a firm line. "No. None of that. This is what kind of man I am, Wilhelmina. So fuckin' scared of the world outside my gang, I couldn't even be bothered to stick around to protect my own son. Innocent little boy never did nothin' to no one. And Eliza, Christ, she was only nineteen…"

A lot of things were starting to become clearer to her now. Even though Eliza had obviously drawn a line in the sand with him, he had failed to protect them. He had failed as a father, and that burden was still bearing down on him with all the weight of the world on Atlas' shoulders.

Was that why he cared so much more fiercely for his gang, even now? It made sense. Dutch and Hosea, and whatever motley crew they collected around them over the years had become Arthur's outlet for that fierce protectiveness that had finally emerged in him much too late.

There was nothing she could say to make him feel better. Even though Eliza seemed to have been saintly enough to hold him under no real obligation, he had been so absorbed in Dutch and Hosea's way of life that he could not possibly contemplate leaving it to do what was right. He had made that choice. His choice had not been good enough. _He_ had not been good enough.

"Arthur, you…okay, you feel like you failed them. I understand that. But that don't mean you're still that same man. You were...probably what, twenty-one? Twenty-two? Barely _even_ a man, back then. You can't change the past. And you can't _dwell_ there, either. I did it, for almost fifteen years. And it never got me nothin' but more pain."

"You never let nobody die…"

A flash of anger and guilt surged up within her then. " _I let my goddamn sister die_! Daddy was sick already, but I should'a been lookin' out for him too! Don't try to compete with me about your regrets, Arthur. This sure as shit ain't about that, and it is not an argument I wanna have. We need to _learn_ from our mistakes…" She let out a sudden scoff, shaking her head slightly and speaking before she even took the time to think. "And, funny, lucky for you it ain't a mistake you can ever make with me."

His brows furrowed and he looked up at her pointedly. "What the hell's that supposed to mean?"

She threw her hands up and Tulip stamped a few hooves into the dirt uncomfortably beneath her, nickering. "I don't know! You tell me. You ain't been with any other women 'til me? Is it 'cause you're scared the same thing's gonna happen again? ' _Oh, but it won't with that there Miss Thorne, guess she's safe to stick my cock into_.'"

His mouth opened like he wanted to say something, then immediately closed again.

 _Fuck_. She was letting her emotions get the better of her. Damn him for tapping a nerve like that with her sister. She hadn't meant to say that out loud, but her brain was running in 3 different directions at once and one of those directions was not a good one. What if he'd only deemed her worthy of sleeping with _because_ he couldn't make that mistake again with her? It was such a sick coincidence that a deep, dark part of her mind had latched onto it immediately. That same goddamn rotten part that just a few minutes before had tried to tell her she still wasn't as good as Mary.

"S'that what you think of me?"

Her eyes snapped back up to meet his. She could feel a flush on her face from her anger and embarrassment at herself. "Shit. _No._ " She gazed out desperately over the road in front of them. There was a positively haunted looking abandoned little town just ahead. A broken wooden sign reading 'Pleasance' hung half-off a set of posts just to their right. How cute. Her voice lowered even more. "I don't know…"

"Wilhelmina, I-" He cut himself off, snorting one of those bull's breaths of his and casting his own gaze away. "I care about you. You know I do, I _told_ you I did. Jesus, you wanted to know what kind of a man I was, and I…I'm just tryin' to tell you the truth of it, now. I don't think I deserve you. Certainly _ain't_ thinkin' how convenient it is puttin' my cock in you and not havin' to worry about little mistakes poppin' out all over the goddamn place!"

He was getting himself worked up now and he cracked Llamrei's reins to get her back into a trot and away from there.

"Fuck!" Willa slammed her fist down on the saddle horn and tilted her head to the sky. Just when she'd thought she was getting the hang of all this, she had to fly off the goddamn handle with her own insecurities. Arthur had proved time and again that he cared for her. He was trying to share something with her that had scarred him, deeply. And she threw it right back in his face. "Fuck. Arthur! Arthur, wait. Please!"

She clicked her tongue at Tulip to follow up on Rei, finally cracking the reins and getting her to speed up into a canter. Willa maneuvered Tulip to cut in front of him and physically stop his horse from moving since he didn't seem to be inclined to do it himself. "Arthur, please. I'm sorry. I don't…that was a goddamn terrible thing for me to say, okay? I ain't got the right to take this thing and make it about me. I know that. I _swear_ I do…I just…my brain doesn't…I don't know when to…" She clawed her hands in frustration, trying to reason with herself as much as she was him. She was pretty sure she was failing on both fronts. "I don't know when to keep my fuckin' mouth shut…"

Arthur just sat there, pointedly staring down at Llamrei's withers. The reins were still clutched much too tightly in his fists.

Willa felt her breath catching. She looked over at him, pleading. What a damn stupid fool she was. _You'll never learn. You'll never trust him, not completely, no matter how many times he tries to prove you can. You ain't capable of it._ She screwed her eyes shut for a few moments, trying to quiet that sour little voice. "Please, Arthur. Talk to me. Yell at me. _Scream_ at me, Jesus, just do something!"

A sigh escaped him and he shook his head, finally dropping the reins so that he could reach up to rub his eyes wearily. "What you want me to say, Wilhelmina? I am…tryin' to do what feels right. I'm tryin' to tell you the truth about what I done 'cause I think you deserve to know. And you're…"

She swallowed thickly, feeling the tears burning behind her eyes. "I know. I know what I did. I just got all this doubt inside of me, Arthur. I got this ugly, _evil_ little voice that never shuts up. That tells me I don't deserve it; that I don't deserve _you_. It _looks_ for reasons. And I can't…I don't know how to stop it…"

Arthur winced, hearing echoes of his own ugly self-reflection in her words. But what she'd said had hurt. A lot. And the worst part was, it was making him doubt himself. Now he was questioning whether or not what she had said was true. He _was_ attracted to her before she had confided in him about her infertility, but would he still have acted on it if she hadn't told him that? Would things have played out the same? _Was_ it just an unthinkable excuse for him to take what he had denied himself for so long?

Finally, after a few moments that felt like an age, he looked back up at her and replied with eerie calm. "I know what that feels like, I do. I know it all too well. But…I'm thinkin' maybe it's best you don't come back to Shady Belle tonight. Go back to Bluewater for a few days. Maybe we…both need to think about some things."

Willa choked in a shallow breath, feeling her lip trembling. That 'goodbye' feeling she'd experienced earlier was hitting her like a brick now, and there was absolutely nothing she could do to fix it. "Please Arthur, just…just come back with me for a little while. Let's just talk about it, okay? Just tell me what I'm scared of ain't true. Just tell me that?"

He winced again, the corner of his mouth quirking down as he cast his gaze away from her and towards the horizon, eyes sweeping over that little abandoned town. "I got business I need to see about, Miss Thorne. Think we need to be gettin' ready to rob that bank. Maybe best I don't have any distractions. I'll…call on you, when this business in St. Denis is finished. Best you stay away from it anyway. Stay safe."

Her jaw dropped. She tilted her head like she was trying to see the words he was speaking, but the letters were all fuzzy around the edges. "But…just tell me it ain't true. _Please_?"

He clicked his tongue at Rei, guiding her into a turn so that she could go around Willa and Tulip. "Let's just…take some time to think, Miss Thorne. I'll call on you, in a few days…"

She slumped in her saddle, staring vacantly at the space in the road he had just vacated. She could hear Rei's hoof beats retreating behind her, but she didn't dare turn to watch him riding away. She wanted to scream. She wanted to cry out his name, make him stop, make him turn around and tell her that her worst fear wasn't true. But he hadn't said a goddamn word about that, positive or negative.

And she deserved it. So she didn't do anything. She waited until she got back to Black Belle's old hideout in Bluewater Marsh before she let herself cry. She slid off the saddle, wrenched open Tulip's saddlebags, pulled out a bottle of whiskey, dropped down on the edge of the little wooden walkway and started sobbing. Large, ugly, gut-wracking sobs.

And of course, that evil little voice was there again, telling her he wouldn't be coming back to call. He'd either get gunned down trying to rob that big city bank, or he'd whisk away with his gang and all that money to some far-off island and she would never see him again.

"Goddamnit! Goddamn stupid…good-for-nothin'…fuckin' _stupid_ …" She sucked in a huge breath through her nose, reaching up to wipe away some of the snot with her sleeve. When she looked up, she saw that deer carcass still draped over Tulip's back. "Aw _fuck_ …"

Willa rolled her eyes up to the sky and shook her head, took a large pull from the bottle and set it down. She stood and made her way over to Tulip's side, stroking a hand over the mare's velvety muzzle. "I'm sorry, girl…strappin' everybody else down with my own goddamn weight…even you..." She raised her arm to rub her eyes on the inside of her elbow and sniffled again before moving and reaching up to awkwardly drag the carcass off of Tulip's back to skin it so at least the meat wouldn't go to waste.

When Arthur rode back in to Shady Belle, he felt bone tired. The weight of that fight felt like it was crushing him. No - the weight of her _implication_ felt like it was crushing him. He eased Rei up to the chuck wagon with his deer, mumbling a hello and dismounting so that he could help Pearson drag it off the horse's rump and hang it.

He managed to avoid much conversation other than a few greetings and welcome backs, but he had to stop and do a double take when he went to walk past Sean. The stupid kid had his whole arm up to his elbow in bandages, sat there by the campfire and nursing a bottle of whiskey in his other hand. "What in the hell happened to you, MacGuire?"

Sean looked up at him cock-eyed; already half in the bag and it was only just about dinnertime. "Aye, I am a right dreadful idiot, Art'ur Morgan. Miss Jones and I was drinkin', 'avin a grand wee time last night when she up and dropped 'er damn earring in the fire. Me, bein' a right chivalrous git, stuck me hand down in to retrieve it for 'er." He stuck the wounded arm up in all its pathetic glory. "This is me thanks."

Arthur sucked in a breath, contemplating all the things he could say. He quirked his mouth, furrowed his brows and shook his head. "Goddamn idiot…" He gave Sean an exasperated wave of his hand and walked past the Irishman without a backwards glance.

"The t'ings we do for love, eh, English!?" Sean piped up from behind him.

"Arthur!"

He brought his eyes up from the ground straight in front of him to see Sadie Adler, approaching with her usual purposeful stride. "Is Willa with you?"

Arthur cleared his throat and gave a brief shake of his head. "No."

"Well, where is she? We was supposed to go huntin' for gators all yesterday before you two run off. Ya know, real feminine pursuits." She crossed her arms and gave him a little smirk.

Arthur heaved out a sigh, reaching up to scratch the back of his neck. "She's…off again for a while. Ain't sure when she'll be back. I told her it might be best to steer clear until we finish up this business in St. Denis."

Sadie cocked an eyebrow. "Why you sound so sour? Wasn't you two off on your lonesome, canoodlin' for the past two days?"

"Weren't doin' nothin' but huntin' game for Pearson, Mrs. Adler…"

"Mmhm. And you two left with two perfectly good horses that could carry two perfectly good deer on 'em. But I only see one hangin' up over there." She nodded her head in the direction of the chuck wagon off behind him.

Arthur felt a flush creeping up his face. "Listen, Mrs. Adler. I appreciate your enthusiasm about the logistics of huntin' deer, but it ain't none of your concern. If you'll excuse me…"

He shoved on past her as politely and firmly as he could. Just about the only person he wanted to talk to right then was Hosea. He'd picked up on enough hints from the old man that he was sure Hosea knew about him and Wilhelmina, and he was just about one of the only ones who knew about Eliza, besides.

So Arthur made his way on into the house to search out the old man in hopes of getting some wisdom handed to him. He'd probably get a hot little earful besides, but he needed some help at this point and he was willing to take whatever chiding Hosea decided to throw at him if it meant he might be able to find some kind of clarity on the whole debacle that was his sudden and volatile love life.

Approaching the second floor balcony, he muttered a curse to himself as he saw Dutch through the open doorway. He had to admit the man was looking better than he had a few nights ago, the bruises nearly faded away to nothing around his eyes as he glanced up at Arthur's approach.

Arthur spied Hosea sitting in a chair just to the side of the door and the old conman spoke up first. "So, Arthur, you get the deciding vote…"

Arthur's brows furrowed as he crossed his arms and leaned into the doorway. "'Bout what?"

Dutch straightened up, glancing between the two of them. "We take an insult and scurry off like cockroaches? Or deal with business the right way…"

Hosea shook his head, obviously exasperated. It seemed to Arthur this must have been an argument that had been going on for quite some time before he showed up. "We don't need to take revenge, we hardly know the guy!"

"This ain't about revenge, Hosea. Angelo Bronte don't mean shit to me! This is about the fact we are plannin' to rob a bank in his town, a bank that he no doubt protects, in a town where his men are gunnin' for us! Before we do that, we need to put him out of commission."

"I disagree, there's always an easier way-"

"There ain't no easier way! Now I know his type, he's a vindictive little power broker who rules by fear, now we pull that stunt in his _cesspit_ of a town…we're doomed. You wanna leave this place? Leave this country? _We need that money_."

Arthur glanced back and forth between the two men, frown deepening by the second.

"It just don't feel good, Dutch…"

"This is it. This is the last job that we are ever gonna pull. Before the year is out, we are gonna be harvesting mangoes in Tahiti!" Dutch turned his gaze on Arthur, trying to pull him in. "Farmers! But we need seed capital, and we need to leave. You know it! I know it!"

Hosea shook his head, standing up with enough force to shove the chair against the railings on the balcony. "Forgive me if I can't think too much about the mango harvest-!"

Dutch cut him off. "This is it. Trust me." His focus returned to Arthur. "Arthur…"

"If it's business, well…business is business."

"Angelo Bronte stands between us and our future…"

Hosea had tried to silently plead with Arthur moments before, to no avail. Something was piqued inside the younger man; Hosea could tell he was chomping at the bit to let off some steam just in the way he'd spoken. He looked over at Dutch plaintively. "You'll damn us all…"

Dutch afforded Hosea a loaded gaze before turning towards the door. "Arthur, come on. We need to go see a man about a boat…"

Arthur sighed, glancing back at Hosea himself and wanting desperately to offer an apology. He didn't even know what it was he'd gotten himself roped into, but with all of Dutch's bluster about what they needed to do to clear the way for this robbery, he saw little choice but to follow. He settled for a meaningful look before turning to follow their leader towards the stairs. "You better be right about this one…"

When Arthur and Dutch finally rode back into Shady Belle much later that night, things were quiet. Their ride had been mostly quiet as well, though Dutch hadn't failed to lecture Arthur about how beneficial it was that they were making connections with local boatmen; local boatmen who also just happened to have a chip on their shoulder for Angelo Bronte.

He assured Arthur that once they had the money from the bank, they'd be able to pay a pretty sum to arrange passage for the whole gang to just about anywhere they desired. Arthur just grunted and mumbled a few agreeable syllables, much more focused on getting back and resuming his original mission of finding and speaking with Hosea.

They reentered the old plantation house and stomped up the stairs in their muddy boots, but Dutch put a hand on Arthur's shoulder before splitting off from him, thanking him again for riding out to Lagras and dealing with that monster of a bull gator that had attacked them.

"We need to be men of action, Arthur. Now more than ever. It's just a fact at this point that we need Bronte out of our way. Hosea and John may not see the reality of it, but I'm glad that you do." He gave Arthur a meaningful look before turning and opening the large door into the room he still shared with Molly.

Arthur just sighed, going into his own room to change out of his swamp-covered clothes. He put on a fresh union suit and pulled a moderately clean pair of trousers on over it, letting the suspenders hang down by his waist.

He grimaced at the blood spattered up over his hands and forearms thanks to trying to take care of that poor kid, Jules. Making his way over to the little wash stand set up in the corner, he soaked a towel and rubbed it with lye soap before going to work scrubbing harshly at the dried and caked blood staining his skin.

He hoped desperately that Dutch was right. Aside from that, he hoped even more desperately that he could find it within himself to forgive Wilhelmina for the harsh things she had said. It was still stinging him, pricking at that lonely memory of the little boy that always seemed so eager to be in his arms when he actually bothered to make an appearance.

It hadn't been a mistake, that was the thing. Or it had, _and_ it hadn't. He had been profoundly terrified of that little boy – that little spark of life that he had created – that should have been his responsibility as much as it was Eliza's. But he hadn't been ready for it. Just the same as John hadn't been ready for Jack, and he supposed that was why he had held John in such contempt for the last few years. John had acted just about the same way Arthur had, and all he could do was push John to do better – _be_ better – than he himself had.

He sighed again, throwing the towel and turning to make his way downstairs. He knocked lightly on Hosea's door, hoping the old man was still awake. "Hosea?" he asked in a low voice, not wanting to wake anyone.

There was a slight rustling from the other side of the door, then a pause. "That you, Arthur?"

"Yeah. You uh…still awake in there?"

"Yes. Come in, my boy."

Arthur opened the door to the small room below the stairs, shuffling inside and closing it gently behind him. Hosea was sprawled on the small bed, his book closed on his lap. "How was your little expedition with old friend Dutch? You get the opportunity to work out some of that aggression?"

Arthur frowned. "What aggression?"

The old man scoffed softly and shook his head. "You were spoiling for some kind of a fight earlier. Weren't that hard to see it."

Arthur crossed his arms and leaned his hip against the small table that sat against the opposite wall from the bed. Hosea had always been able to see through him, and yet it still managed to take him by surprise. "I…Miss Thorne and I had a sort of…disagreement."

Hosea's eyes sparkled in the dim light thrown off by the single lantern in the room. "Ahh. That why she didn't come back?"

Arthur nodded curtly.

"And…it's still bothering you." This was the way it had always worked; Arthur came to the older man with his problems, but Hosea always had to coax them out of him. Twenty years worth of this was part of what made it so easy for him to read Arthur like he did.

Hosea sighed when he did not appear to be forthcoming with whatever specific thing it was that was bothering him. "Well, what have you done, Arthur?"

Arthur narrowed his eyes, casting his gaze down at the floor. "I ain't done nothin'. I just tried to…" He huffed out a plaintive sigh. "I told her about Eliza…and the boy…"

Hosea's eyes widened in mild astonishment. "…You never even told Mary Gillis about them."

"No…I know. And she…" He huffed out a breath, uncrossing his arms. "She said I was…I don't know, made it sound like I was takin' advantage of her, 'cause of what happened to them. She's…she _can't_ …" Arthur fumbled for the words he needed to say, splaying his hands in frustration.

Hosea's brows drew down and he sat up a little straighter, setting the book down beside him on the mattress. "Miss Thorne can't…?"

Arthur finally raised his gaze back towards the old man, jaw working. "She's…like Bessie was. Can't have children."

Hosea was silent for a few moments, tilting his head back in acknowledgement. "I see. What uh…what was it prompted you to tell her about them?"

"I just wanted her to know the truth. 'Bout who I am. What I done. She deserves to know. But she…Jesus, I don't know Hosea, she snapped at me 'bout how I was scared of makin' the same mistake again, but I _couldn't_ wit' her, and how convenient _that_ all was, and then she said sorry, but she still asked me if what she was thinkin' was true, and I…" He splayed his hands again, not being able to stop himself now that all of it was coming out. "I couldn't tell her if it was or not. It's like as soon as she brought it up, I…I started doubtin' myself and that just made me even more pissed off."

"Well…that's a hell of a lot to unpack, son. Let's start simply. Do you like her?"

"'Course I do…"

"Okay then. It's been quite obvious to me for some time now that she also likes you. And she obviously likes you enough to share some very…personal things with you." Hosea paused for a moment. "Did you know Bessie tried to leave, after we figured out we couldn't have our own children?"

Arthur's brows furrowed. "No…don't remember that."

"Mm." Hosea nodded. "Yes. She was ashamed. Didn't know why I still wanted to be her husband. Tying me down, so that I'd grow old and childless with her. Thought she was nothin' but a burden."

Arthur was silent. After a few moments he moved away from the table so that he could take a seat beside Hosea on the bed, threading his fingers together loosely between his legs. "That's…a lot like what Wilhelmina told me. Said no man would want her once he got to know her."

"I'm not surprised." Hosea squinted, gazing into some unknown distance. "It's a…hard thing. Of course I loved her, told her she was being a fool. Told her we had you. And then John, of course. But that's beside the point. You and I both know what Miss Thorne's life has been like. What her brother's done to her. I imagine trust is a hard thing to come by after bein' dealt a hand like that. What she said to you, it sounds like it comes from the same place _your_ doubts come from."

Arthur shook his head slightly, not quite comprehending.

Hosea shook his own head and planted a hand on Arthur's knee in a fatherly gesture. "The two of you make quite a pair, my boy. Both so full of doubt. About yourselves, about each other. The world is a cruel place. Don't make much sense to make it even more cruel by tryin' so hard to end somethin' before it's even gotten a chance to begin. What happened to Eliza and Isaac wasn't your fault, Arthur. I know I've told you this before, though I can see you still don't quite believe me. Yes, maybe we've damned ourselves with this life we live, maybe we've gotten what we deserve…but that doesn't mean you should just give up and stop tryin' for somethin' better."

"But what if…what if she's right, Hosea?"

"About what? You taking advantage of her?" The old man barked out a muted laugh and shook his head again, patting Arthur's knee for good measure before withdrawing his hand. "You trusted her enough to tell her somethin' you never even told _Mary_. Doesn't that tell you everything you need to know?"

Arthur knit his brows. "I…suppose."

Hosea's features flattened out into a smug expression. "Take from it what you will, my boy. She may have said some harsh words in a heated moment, but, well…she wouldn't be the first and she surely won't be the last. Everyone speaks without thinking first, sometimes. The two of you need to be kinder to yourselves. And then maybe you'll find that you can be kinder to each other."

Arthur puffed out a breath, planting his hands on his knees before getting to his feet. Sometimes he wished the old man would be more straightforward with his words of wisdom, but he always figured it was something about getting older that made folks so fond of being all enigmatic like that. "Well…thanks. And uh, listen Hosea…m'sorry. 'Bout earlier. Dutch, makin' me pick sides and all…"

Hosea waved a hand, leaning back on the bed to get comfortable. "What's done is done. I just hope he knows what he's doin', stirrin' up more trouble in this city. I just get worried, the way things seem so…bloodthirsty, now. What is old Dutch's plan, anyway?"

Arthur reached up to scratch under his chin wearily. "Row up to Bronte's mansion tomorrow night, 'round the back so we can sneak in. Take out the guards, take him for ransom I guess. Ransom from who, I ain't quite sure, but I guess that's why I ain't the one makin' the plans."

Hosea furrowed his brows, huffing out a sigh. "You know, Arthur…you could. Make plans, I mean." He leaned forward slightly, offering the younger man a serious gaze. "Twenty years is a long time. I know this gang means everything to you, but…well, as the Bard said, 'there are more things in heaven and earth'…"

Arthur reached for the door handle, pausing before walking out. He turned back towards Hosea to say something in response, but the old man just shook his head and offered him an enigmatic little smile. "Good night, son."

Arthur pursed his lips and gave a slight nod. "Good night then…" He slipped out of the older man's room to make his way back upstairs and have a think.


	17. Shady Belle - What Did Buddha Say?

There were gunshots erupting from everywhere outside. _Lots_ of gunshots. Someone was attacking Angelo Bronte's mansion.

Everett Thorne had excused himself from a meeting with the wealthy Italian to take a piss in the man's positively luxurious washroom when all of a sudden the door had flown open behind him and Bronte himself had come careening inside, slamming the door shut and locking it behind him. "'Scuse me, signor! _Occupado_!"

"Shut the fuck up, you moron! _Idiota!_ We're being fucking attacked!"

Everett cleared his throat and did up his fly, glancing back before turning around fully to face Bronte. "S'that what all that goddamn noise is? Christ, I thought the mayor was lightin' off more of them fireworks."

Bronte rolled his eyes furiously, wrenching open the drawer of a linen cupboard and yanking a mauser out, fumbling to remove the magazine and make sure it was loaded.

Everett reached up to scratch at the side of his jaw before idly removing his pistol from its holster. He flashed the Italian man a wolfish grin."Well, sir. Looks like we make our stand in the crapper."

" _Madre di Dio_ …" Bronte muttered to himself, reaching up to wipe at the sheen of sweat that had formed on his brow. He could hear men yelling and coming up the stairs now. His guards were out there trying to hold them off, but to be perfectly honest, Angelo Bronte had _never_ expected anyone to be brash enough to attack him in his own home in the middle of St. Denis. It was a poor showing, and he knew it. "Get out there, you _fucking_ clown!"

Everett eyed Bronte out of the corner of his eye, leaning a hip against the large wood and porcelain sink fixture. "Nah. Think I can protect you better in here boss, don't you? Don't wanna leave you all by yourself."

They heard more gunshots in the hallway outside and Bronte screwed his eyes shut, tilting his head toward the ceiling and muttering an incomprehensible prayer before clambering up over the edge of the huge bathtub and ducking down into it.

The washroom was located off the side of Bronte's sprawling master bedroom, and one guard remained to defend them between there and the hallway. Everett heard that bedroom door being kicked in, heard the gunshots, heard a body hitting the floor, and then heard a familiar voice.

"John! In here!"

And then the washroom door flew in with a loud crack and there stood that Arthur Callahan and some other scrawny fella with scraggly hair and scars on his face to rival Everett's own. He immediately put his hands up, letting the pistol dangle from his finger by the trigger guard.

Suddenly Bronte flew up from where he'd been cowering in the tub, leveling his pistol at some unknown point between Arthur and John. He pulled the trigger, but the only things that gun produced were a few impotent clicks. Somehow, he had jammed it. "Oh _cazzo!_ " He clawed his free hand and launched the mauser in a furious overhand throw, hitting John squarely between the eyes with it.

Arthur hadn't even had time to register the gun misfiring before throwing his hands up and half-turning, expecting to get shot at the very least. As he straightened back up, he saw Bronte spread his hands in a conciliatory gesture, slowly taking a step out of the tub as he resigned himself to trying to plead for his life. "Okay, okay…I'm sorry friend, I…no, name your price! Name your price, every man have a price…"

John started moving towards Bronte with all the flustered surety of a bull in a china shop, one of his fists going up.

"Okay, okay, I surrender-!" John's fist connected with the side of the Italian man's face with the full force of his weight behind it, and it sent Bronte sprawling across the ground.

By now, Arthur had his revolver leveled at Everett, who was slowly – very slowly – lowering his own pistol toward its holster at his hip. "Hey now, fellas. You just did me a favor. C'mon Callahan, I tried to help you!"

John whipped around, rubbing the knuckles of his hand and grimacing. "Who the fuck are you!?"

"Name's Everett. I've met your friend here already. Arthur Callahan, right?" One of his hands remained firmly in the air while the other deposited the pistol safely away.

Arthur narrowed his eyes at Wilhelmina's brother, the revolver held deadly steady in his hand. "This here's the bastard that took Jack…"

The corner of John's mouth twitched and in a second he was on the other man, grabbing him up roughly by the lapels of his suit jacket and shoving him against the wall. "Son of a bitch!"

Everett grunted as the back of his head hit the wall, trying to put both hands back up. "I got no idea what you're-"

"Shut the fuck up!" Before Arthur could get another word in edgewise, John's fist was connecting with flesh again. And then again. And again. And then one more time for good measure.

Everett sputtered and managed to mumble some half-aborted plea after the first wallop, but before long it was clear that John was holding up nothing but dead weight in the fury of his anger. His shoulders heaved up and down with ragged breaths as he finally let Everett drop to the ground, bringing his arm up to wipe across his mouth since his hand was covered in blood. He glanced over at Arthur, eyes dark. "I'm gonna kill him."

"You ain't doin' no such thing, John." Dutch appeared in the doorway behind Arthur, glancing around at the bodies on the floor in quick assessment. He had his revolvers in his hands and he glanced back over his shoulder like he was still expecting a fight. "We keep 'em alive for now. Law's gonna be here soon, fellas. We need to get out of here."

Arthur sighed and holstered his own revolver. _Shit_. Should've just shot the bastard the second he had the chance. He made eye contact with John before nodding briefly down at Bronte's unconscious body. "Get him. I'll get this sack of shit." He grunted as he leaned over and hauled up Everett Thorne, slinging the man ungracefully over his shoulder.

John huffed out one more furious breath and cursed before he grabbed up Bronte, struggling a bit before getting the man situated. They could hear whistles outside now, so both men retrieved their guns with their free hands and made their way downstairs behind Dutch into what was sure to be another shootout.

Once they'd somehow managed to make it back to Thomas's little skiff, Bill had to help Arthur and John get their captives into the boat while they waited for Lenny to meet back up with them. Dutch ushered the boy down into the skiff once he ran up onto the dock, and Thomas pushed them away with his oar once everyone was on board.

The ride was slow and tense as Thomas paddled them back up the winding river towards Lagras. Dutch's eyes almost never left Bronte, and Arthur began to feel worry gnawing at his gut. He tried to keep his own eyes from Everett, however, because he was sure that dark and foreboding thing he thought he saw in Dutch's gaze would have started reflecting in his own if he didn't. He cast a brief glance at John and only saw the same thing.

He knew they should have just taken the opportunity to finish him off when they had the chance. Christ, he had _surrendered_. One shot and Wilhelmina's struggle would have been over and done with.

Arthur still didn't know what the hell he was going to do about her. He'd been running Hosea's words over and over in his head since the night before whenever he got a spare moment to himself, and from what he could figure out the old man had been right about a lot of things, as usual. But what if it was better this way? He could still put a bullet in her brother right now and dump his corpse off the side of the boat to sink into the depths of that swamp; he could free her from her demons with one simple act, tell her to run far away and make a good, honest life for herself.

What good could he be to her, anyway? They'd shared some intense moments, and he'd started feeling things he hadn't felt in years because of it. But he still didn't know if he could be loyal to Dutch and the gang _and_ to someone else - someone on the outside - at the same time. It felt like a betrayal. Like no matter what choice he made, he couldn't stay with one without betraying the other.

He _thought_ his feelings were genuine, but a nagging doubt still clawed at the back of his brain, grasping with ironclad talons to remind him that he was _a bad man_. Why _wouldn't_ he use her, knowing what he knew? And why _wouldn't_ she lash out, when he hadn't been able to prove otherwise? But, he thought, she had lashed out before that; she blamed herself for the deaths of her sister and her father just as much as he blamed himself for Isaac and Eliza, and as much as she spouted about learning from mistakes and not dwelling in the past, it seemed neither of them was very much good at it.

Arthur was shaken from his thoughts when Dutch suddenly leaned forward beside him toward the back of the boat, smacking Bronte on the side of the head right where a nasty, roughly fist-shaped bruise had formed. The man muttered and snapped awake, eyes moving wildly for a moment before focusing on Dutch.

"Hey, big man. We gonna ransom you or what?"

Bronte squinted and then shook his head, scoffing. "Ah, you're pathetic."

"Oh I am? 'Cause from where I'm sittin, you're the one deservin' of pity, my friend. All your men. All your money. It weren't no match for a bunch of _bumpkins_."

Bronte sat himself up slightly, narrowing his eyes. "You…are _nothing_. You do nothing. You mean nothing. You stand for nothing. Me!? I run a city! And when the law catch up to you, you will _die_ like nothing! I _am_ this country!" He nodded briefly down towards Everett, who was still unconscious in the bottom of the boat beside him. "You…you and this _ratto ingrato_ are what people are running from!"

Dutch leveled a pointed look down at Bronte, voice lowering. "I possess things that you will never understand."

"You don't even possess your own men! A thousand dollars to the man who kills him and sets me free!"

Bill, Arthur, John and Lenny just sat in telling silence. Dutch leaned forward again. "What are you gonna say now?"

Bronte eyed the other men, shifting nervously. His bluff had failed. Miserably. "They are even bigger fools than you!"

"No doubt!"

"The law will find you. Already the dogs are on the way!"

"Oh yeah! Oh, you're right…" Dutch crept closer to Bronte. "You are so right!" He extended an arm, pawing at the back of Bronte's neck and finding a firm grasp there. "They are good at smelling filth, huh!? So filth has got to be _disposed_ of!"

Arthur was standing behind Dutch now, casting quick glances back at John and the others as Dutch's tone became more and more frenzied. He watched on anxiously as Dutch took the man and shoved his head over the side of the boat, holding him down while he struggled and choked under the water.

"Your friends the Pinkertons gonna come and rescue you!?" Dutch pulled Bronte up out of the water briefly so that he could shout into his ear. " _You repulsive little maggot!"_ And back under he went a moment later. Dutch kept him there. The seconds ticked by. "Call them now! _You call them_!"

Bronte was drowning. His struggles were abating. And still, Dutch held him there. Arthur looked on, brows drawn down, debating whether or not to try and interrupt. Their plan all along had been to ransom Bronte, not murder him in cold blood. True, he was a repulsive little shit-stain who had unabashedly set them up, but Dutch had the upper hand. Dutch had Bronte right where he wanted him, and his sudden descent into impetuous violence was…new. Arthur couldn't help but wonder if this was how it had been on that ferry back in Blackwater, when Dutch had murdered a woman and no one quite knew why.

A low, lilting laugh suddenly began to cut through Dutch's growls and the muted sound of sloshing water as Thomas silently pulled the skiff up to the dock. As Bronte finally stilled, Dutch glanced up to see an alligator sliding silently through the water ahead of them. He heaved out a breath and clutched at the Italian by the shoulders of his smoking jacket, lifting the man's dead weight over the edge of the boat and dumping him into the swamp.

That laughing only began to intensify, and all the men pulled their attention away from that gator to turn and look at the other man still tied up in the bottom of the boat. Apparently all that commotion had woken up Everett, who was snorting out hoarse and whistling laughter through all the blood that had caked around his smashed up nose.

Dutch heaved another furious breath, rounding on the man and leaning down to grab him up by the lapels of his suit jacket. " _You_ ain't got nothin' to be laughin' at, boy! We don't need loose ends. Give me just one good reason why I shouldn't throw you over too!"

Everett groaned as his head tilted back bonelessly, looking up at Dutch through his one good eye; the other was swollen shut and bruising a deep purple like the color of plums. "Well…" He snorted, some blood spilling from his nose and down onto his white shirt as he nodded up towards Arthur. "You see, sir, I tried to warn your friend here about that trolley station. Told him it was a set-up…"

Dutch blinked, all of his fury suddenly fizzling down as he cast a questioning glance up at Arthur.

Arthur twitched, hands fisting at his sides. "Dutch…! This lyin' piece of shit's the one who took Jack out from under Bronte. I couldn't trust what he told me!"

Everett snorted again, trying to suck back some of that blood so he could clear his airways. "I-I didn't know the kid belonged to you! I was just tryin' to make some money, fellas. Ain't lied about nothin'." His eye refocused on Dutch. "And you…you just did me a very big favor, sir. I _owe_ you for what you just done."

Dutch squinted down at Everett, eyeing him warily. "And how did you know about the trolley station…?"

Everett rolled his eye, scraping his boot heels across the bottom of the boat. "I worked for Bronte enough to know about a number of his dealings. I'd been plannin' on offin' him anyway…but when I heard about a group of cowboys ridin' on into the city and poundin' on his doors…thought I might be able to play friendly. Thought we could end up helpin' each other."

John clenched his own fists before reaching up and drawing his rifle off his shoulder. "Dutch…you gonna feed one of 'em to a goddamn alligator, you might as well feed both of em! This sack of shit ain't gonna help us!"

"Shut up, John…" Dutch said, eerily gentle, as he continued assessing Everett for a few moments before he let the man drop back against the edge of the boat. He sat down and reached up to rub his mouth with the palm of one hand. His eyes darted back up to Arthur for a moment before returning to Thorne. "You took John's boy. You worked for that trumped-up _worm_. You know our faces now, our names. Hurry up, son. Give me another reason not to end you."

Everett hawked up some blood, turning his head to spit it over the edge of the boat. "Like I said, didn't know the boy was yours. I've made a fair amount pullin' orphans off the street, puttin' 'em on those Mercy Trains that run out west. S'all I thought that boy was. I ain't exactly well-liked by the law myself, Mr. van der Linde. So if you're worried I'm gonna rat on you, don't be…" He nodded out toward where a large crimson stain bloomed near the surface of the water. "With that stuck-up piece of shit out of my way, I can pick up some of his business in St. Denis. I can be a _friend_ to you in that city. I can be a very good friend. I _tried_ to warn you boys about Bronte settin' you up. You should ask your man there why he never passed on the information."

"Dutch, I told you I didn't trust him. _Hosea_ told you. Plain and simple. I didn't trust Bronte either, but I had to make a choice who I trusted less…"

Dutch's gaze slid up towards Arthur. "Wasn't your choice to make, son. You didn't trust him because you been spendin' all your time with his sister. His sister whose motives in all of this are still as unclear to me as the day you waltzed into Clemens Point with her…" Dutch stood again, leaning down to hook his hands under Everett's shoulders and heft him to his feet.

"Dutch…" Arthur's fingers twitched for his revolver, eyes flicking back and forth between him and Everett.

"For Christ's sake, stand down, Arthur!" Dutch whipped his head and snapped at him as he retrieved a hunting knife from a sheath at his belt. "All of you, get back to camp. I'm lettin' him go for now. And that's the last goddamn word." Dutch grimaced at Everett as he turned the man around to cut the ropes that bound his hands together behind his back, leaning in close and lowering his voice. "And when I come to call in this favor you say you owe me…you best be able to provide."

Everett leveled a grin up at Arthur on the dock as Dutch worked at the ropes behind him. So, the man _had_ lied that night at the mayor's party. This Arthur fella _was_ friends with his sister. The sister that had been trying to hunt him down and kill him. _Sneaky little bitch_. He watched Arthur watching him for a few more moments before the other man sneered and shook his head, tapping John on the shoulder to get him to follow along back toward the horses.

Apparently Mr. Dutch van der Linde was not a fan of Wilhelmina, either. Or at the very least, had no reason to trust her. Everett thought he might be able to use that to his advantage in due time. He rubbed his wrists after he was freed from the ropes, letting the grin drop as he turned back toward Dutch. "You got my word, Mr. van der Linde. You'll see. I ain't above helpin' my friends."

Dutch dropped the ropes over the side of the boat and made his way past Everett and up onto the dock. They were alone now save for Thomas, and Dutch eyed Everett once more as he slipped the knife back into its sheath. "We shall see, Mr. Thorne. Scurry on back to St. Denis now…" He waved a hand at Thomas before turning to make his own way back to the horses. "Thank you again, Thomas, my friend!"

Wilhelmina was drunk; had been for a few days now. She kept scurrying back into the city like some feral little animal, secretly hoping to spot Arthur making his way purposefully from some job to another. She never did, though.

She slid some coins across the counter to the store clerk, reaching out to grab the neck of the bottle she was purchasing at the same time. She gave him a wobbly nod and quirked her mouth into a grimace that was trying to be a smile before turning to leave the dingy little market.

"Say, your husband should be takin' you home to sleep it off, miss."

She hiccupped and turned back toward the clerk with the door held half-open in front of her. All she could think to do was bark out a harsh and humorless laugh. "Ain't got no husband. Ain't got no home, either. Here's hopin' the next lady come's in's got 'em, though…" she muttered back in something of a long slur before pushing all the way out the door and letting it bang shut behind her. A woman in a fine dress looked up and gave her a nasty frown at the sudden sound that had disturbed her, and Willa sneered right back before turning in the other direction.

She made her way up the street, staring at the sidewalk and weaving this way or that when she saw feet approaching. She thought about opening the bottle; could feel the pleasant buzz of inebriation being replaced by the slightest beginnings of a massive headache. But no, she needed to at least make herself wait until she was safely outside the city again. She finally glanced up, looking for Tulip. She'd hitched her somewhere on this street, hadn't she?

Willa didn't see her horse anywhere. She stopped in her tracks, turning hastily this way and that to try and get her bearings. Her eyes landed on a sign advertising an art gallery inside one of the buildings just ahead of her, and she had to do a double take when she glanced over one of the names of the featured artists. She pursed her lips, glancing around once more before stuffing that whiskey bottle as deep into her satchel as it would fit and walking over to the entrance.

She craned her neck to peer through the archway that led inside and then continued forward, rounding the corner and following another sign painted on the wall that pointed up a narrow staircase. She was greeted at the top by a black and white checkered floor that immediately started causing her vision to spin, so she doggedly focused upward and toward a docent of sorts that was standing behind a counter cut out of the wall.

"Enjoy the show, miss…if that's possible." He gave her a shrewd look, the corner of his large mustache twitching upwards. "Though you might have the right idea, gettin' drunk for it first."

Her eyes narrowed and she stopped in front of the counter, letting one of her hands rest on her holster. "Just tell me how much tickets are. And if you got any booze stashed away back there." She waved her other hand in the general direction of his little counter.

"Er…the show is free, and I do have some champagne, but it's a dollar a glass."

"Gimme two." She looked down to rummage through her pockets.

He cleared his throat, eyeing the woman for a moment before turning away to retrieve two narrow, stemmed glasses. He set them on the counter and proceeded to pour from an open bottle, and when the first one was full she scooped it up and neatly drained it, setting it back down. When the second one was full she dropped a few coins on the counter and grabbed up the fresh glass, turning away to push through the double doors that led into the gallery proper.

There was a nicely dressed couple standing just on the other side of the doors as she walked in to what looked like an entry room, and she sidestepped them to avoid a collision.

"I just don't like how much time you're spending with the man is all…"

The woman raised her hands, fingers splaying to mark her point as she replied, "just wait until you see his work! It's very progressive…"

Willa made her way past the couple, noting the table in the center of the room stacked high with champagne glasses and numerous open bottles, apparently free for the taking. "Son of a bitch…" She mumbled to herself and shot a dirty look back over her shoulder towards the docent behind the doors before draining the glass she was currently holding and stopping to refill it at the table. On second thought, she set the glass down and took the whole bottle instead.

"Well I'm not so very sure how I feel about 'progression'…"

She made her way past the entry room and on into where the art officially seemed to start. There were pedestals with marble statues atop them scattered across the floor here, so she tried to stay around the edge of this room for fear of knocking anything over. There were some interesting wildlife photographs lining the walls that she let her gaze linger on; wolves, a beautiful horse running through water that reminded her an awful lot of Tulip and her heart clenched drunkenly at that.

One of the photographs was a portrait of a man. The hat the fella was wearing immediately caught her eye and caused her to stumble forward a few steps so that she could get a closer look. It was a portrait of Arthur. She blinked up at it blearily a few times, mouth hanging slack.

Undeniably, he looked uncomfortable, with his hands hanging awkwardly at his sides and his mouth pressed into the slightly worried frown he almost always wore. The brim of his hat shadowed his eyes, but she felt like she knew what she'd see in them. Doubt; confusion; mild irritation at not knowing what to be doing with himself or why someone would even want to photograph him in the first place. She felt her heart clench again and lifted the bottle of champagne to her lips so she could take a long drink from it. Maybe she _should_ ride back to Shady Belle and try to talk to him, Dutch be damned. But he couldn't see her in the state she was currently in; she was pathetic. At the very least, she needed to be sober to throw herself to her knees and beg him to forgive her.

She let the bottle dangle at her side again and huffed out a dejected sigh, turning away from Arthur's photograph. She spotted the French artist, Charles Châtenay, standing at the other side of the next room she walked into. There were several more well-dressed men and women congregated here, examining the man's paintings and muttering distasteful things about them. She glanced back and forth at some of the breasts and buttocks on display before making her way over to the slender little Frenchman to say hello.

He had one hand up, a cigarette tucked neatly between his fingers as he observed the hushed and horrified people standing around him. "Look at these idiots, _mon ch_ _é_ _ri_ …"

Willa snorted slightly and did an awkward stumble-turn to look back around the room. A woman clutching a small purse to her bosom shuffled over towards them, voice low and urgent in her evident concern over his paintings. " _Excuse me_ , Mr. Chatternay…" She turned to point toward a painting of a naked woman with her backside facing the viewer, reclined in a rather sensual position. "Couldn't you have painted some drawers on her!?"

" _Madame_ , I paint her in her natural state…as she was, and will be in paradise!" He walked away from Willa, guiding his critic back toward the painting that so offended her.

"There's nothin' natural about that!"

"Clothes are civilization…repression…death! To be naked is to be free, innocent, alive! Like Buddha said, you know, we are all just here to fuck!"

Willa's eyes widened while she was in the middle of trying to take another swig of champagne and she almost spit the whole mouthful of it out. She was actually somewhat glad she'd decided to wander up into Charles' exhibit. She'd almost forgotten how ridiculous he was.

The woman gasped sharply. "Well, that explains the decadence of those hottentots!"

"Hey, you got a picture of my wife here…in her delicates!"

"Henry! Is that your behind!? Why would you be showin' it to that man!?"

"That's my momma! As nude as the day she was born!"

"Stop lookin' at my husband's buttocks!"

"Stop lookin' at my momma!"

All of a sudden, the room was descending into chaos. Someone threw their champagne glass and it shattered on the floor, women were bunching their skirts up in their fists to hightail it out of there, punches were suddenly being thrown.

The woman who'd complained about the hottentots rounded on Charles again, lifting her purse high into the air. " _You filthy little man_!" She swung and the bag connected with the artist's shoulder roughly. Before long he was cowering on the floor and Willa rushed forward to try and help him, waving her bottle of champagne at the woman threateningly.

"Get off him, you old goat!" Willa kicked at the woman before leaning down to help Charles to his feet, cackling slightly at the mortified expression on her face as she screamed for her husband and stalked out of the gallery.

Charles gave Willa a small, grateful nod before scurrying towards the gallery entrance himself. Suddenly another fella came up just behind Willa, a fist raised angrily in the air. "Hey! I'm comin' after you, Frenchy!"

She spun around, sloshing some champagne onto the floor. "Hey! Leave that poor fella alone!" She pushed him and he stumbled back a step, but in his frenzy over the sheer horror of nudity (and possibly being made a cuckold of by the weird little artist) he raised his fist again like he was going to hit her.

Her eyes widened and she took a lunging step backwards just in time, almost losing her footing before taking that champagne bottle and swinging it upside the man's head. It sent him reeling and she used the opportunity to turn tail and run while the others were still fighting amongst each other.

She found Charles hiding around the corner a few rooms back and he beckoned her over, standing and making his way for the stairs. "This show is well and truly over! Let's get out of here!"

Willa followed the artist down the stairs and across the street, shaking her head at his ability to stroke his own ego at the idea of provoking all those people with his paintings. She had to admit, it was impressive seeing how easily such 'civilized' folk devolved into shrieking children when faced with anything that pressed upon their delicate sensibilities in such a way.

She found herself comparing it to the way her and Arthur had acted with each other; thinking back to that night he'd come back from the river boat and then their last fight just a few days ago. It was uncomfortably similar when you stripped it down to the basics. Letting your emotions run rampant instead of taking a step back and trying to look at a thing objectively. Could anyone really look at a painting objectively? That wasn't really the point, she supposed. Especially if the painting contained your husband, naked on a picnic blanket, sporting nothing but his best Sunday hat. She was a hypocrite. She didn't think Charles was, though; he seemed to hide nothing of himself, and despite being hunted down by half the husbands in St. Denis, he seemed happier for it.

She told herself it was always better to look at things objectively, though she never did. Her vision was still clouded from the grief of her teenage years, and now she knew that Arthur's was similarly clouded. They both blamed themselves for the chaotic workings of the world, and took the frustration of that guilt out on other people sometimes. Almost used it as an excuse to.

"That picture I gave you. It will be worth something some day, I can feel it!" Charles led her down an alley and rounded a corner.

She smirked and scoffed. "Maybe. Right now, seems like the only thing it'd get me is mobbed by a bunch of effete assholes."

Charles walked up to a door and knocked on it a few times before turning back toward her. "Ohh, you are funny _mon ch_ _é_ _ri!_ I hope to see you again some time!"

Willa shook her head and huffed out an exasperated sigh after he'd let himself in through the door, cooing to whichever of his mistresses waited inside. She turned to walk back out onto the street. She still needed to find Tulip. Maybe if she headed back in the direction of that store where she'd bought the whiskey…

As she passed the store, she suddenly spied Tulip around the corner, tethered to a hitching post. Of course she'd wandered off in the wrong direction when she'd first left the market. Christ, she had to get her shit together.

"Willa?"

Her fingers almost twitched for her pistol, but it was a familiar voice that she heard beckoning her. Willa spun and saw Abigail, of all people, done up in a beautiful blue dress and making her way across the street towards her.

"A-Abigail…? What are you doin' here?"

"I could ask you the same thing. Where have you been?"

"I…well…"

Abigail took a step closer, folding her arms and drawing her brows down. "Are…are you drunk?"

Willa scowled and took her own step back, crossing her own arms defensively. "Maybe a little. So what? Arthur…told me not to come back to Shady Belle for a while."

Abigail cocked an eyebrow, her voice lowering conspiratorially as she took another quick step closer to make up for the distance Wilhelmina had just put between them. "'Cause of the bank? That's why I'm here. Hosea asked me to come into the city and snoop around for him."

Willa blinked. "Alone?"

"No, Charles is waitin' for me just down the street Why would Arthur ask you not to come back just because of that? Ain't like any of the rest of us are leavin'."

Willa grimaced and reached up to rub the back of her neck awkwardly. "I…we had a fight, I guess. I don't know…"

A softer expression crossed Abigail's face as she planted her hands on her hips. "Oh. Say no more, my dear. C'mon…" She reached out and grabbed Willa's hand, leading her over to a bench on the sidewalk so that they could sit down.

Willa grudgingly let herself be led, sagging down onto the wooden seat and reaching for her pouch of tobacco so that she could roll herself a cigarette.

Abigail sat and turned herself slightly so that she was facing Willa, smoothing her hands down the fabric on her thighs. "I know you two been pretty tight-lipped, but…there's somethin' goin' on with you, isn't there?"

Willa glanced over briefly before returning her gaze to the work her hands were doing. "somethin' is…a word for it, I guess."

"I knew it. I ain't ever seen him act like this, except for what John's told me about that Mary woman all them years ago."

Willa shot her a sideways glance as she lifted the half-made cigarette to lick the paper. "You and John talkin' about us?"

Abigail gave her a rather sly smirk. "'Course we been talkin' about you. It's only one of the few things we don't fight over. He's noticed too, ya know. You all ain't very good at hidin' it."

Willa sighed, leaning back against the bench and striking a match to light her cigarette. She crossed her legs and threw the match onto the sidewalk in front of them. "You ever feel like you might'a…hurt John, real bad? When you fight?"

"Usually that's what I'm goin' for when we fight, honey."

Willa chortled at that and held the cigarette out to offer it to the younger woman.

Abigail dipped her head in a silent thank you and took the cigarette between her fingers, bringing it up to her painted lips to take a puff. "But yes. More often than not, we hurt each other pretty bad when we fight. Back at Clemens Point, I'm sure you heard a lot of it. Ain't ever pretty."

Willa hummed in agreement, taking the cigarette when Abigail offered it back to her. "But you always work it out…?" She took another drag, squinting over at Abigail though the smoke.

"Mostly it's me forgivin' him for all the stupid shit he does and him sayin' he hates me either way, but lately…after that business with Jack, he's been…better. About a lot of things."

"He does love you…"

"I know. Just got a funny way of showin' it. The men in this gang, ain't none of 'em very smart. Hosea and Arthur are the best out of all of 'em…" She glanced over at Willa again and took the cigarette that was offered. "Ya know, when John left…Arthur was the one stepped up to help me with Jack a lot of the time."

"Yeah?"

Abigail nodded, taking a slow drag and letting the smoke plume from her nostrils. "Yeah. It was almost weird, how good he was with him. Like he'd done it before, ya know? But I never asked, I was always just grateful to be able to get a break. Arthur's a good man. Dumb as a bag of bricks sometimes, but he's always worked hard to look out for us. He deserves somethin' good in his life…"

Willa took the cigarette back and let her gaze drop to the glowing ash on the end of it, her brows furrowing. "Don't know if I qualify…"

Abigail returned a smug expression, leaning forward slightly so she could catch Wilhelmina's gaze. "People fight, Willa. It's…all a part of bein' in love, I guess. Don't know why, but it is. And it don't mean it's the end of the world. I know I don't know much, but I can tell you two ain't like Dutch and crazy old Molly O'Shea. There ain't no love there, at least not from his side of things. But Arthur ain't like that. Never has been."

Willa took one more drag from the cigarette before tossing it out into the street and heaving a sigh. "Well, he said he'd come and find me, after this whole business with the bank is done. So hopefully I'll…see all of you again, after…"

Abigail stood, smoothing down the skirts of her dress and looking down. "I'm quite sure you will. And according to Dutch, we'll all be settin' sail for some untamed island paradise shortly after that. Me, I'm willin' to bet you and Arthur settle your differences long before Tahiti, or Australia, or wherever the hell that man thinks he's takin' us."

Willa hauled herself up off the bench as well, chewing her lip for a moment. "Thank you, Abigail. I'm glad I ran into you. You're...pretty wise, for somebody so young."

Abigail reached out to squeeze Willa's hands in a brief sign of affection and shook her head. "Ain't wise, just had too much experience with particularly stupid men. I gotta get back to Charles, but maybe I'll put a little bug in Arthur's ear about waitin' so long to come talk to you, alright? Supposedly Hosea wants to do this job in a few days, so if you ain't seen him by then you ride on over to Shady Belle and see what's goin' on. Okay?"

Willa nodded, giving Abigail's hands her own brief squeeze before letting them drop. "Thank you, but you don't have to."

"Nonsense. Just…sober up a little, okay? And wish them boys some luck that things all go to plan!" Abigail turned away from her then to walk back down the street, throwing up a little wave as she went.

Willa sighed and made her way over to Tulip, rubbing the mare's nose and untethering her from the hitching post so that they could make their way back to Bluewater Marsh. A few days. She could wait that much longer, couldn't she?


	18. A Great and Sudden Change

A few more days passed, and Wilhelmina had tried desperately to follow Abigail's advice. She'd ended up drinking away the agonizing hangover on the third day, but on the fourth she willed herself to stay in bed and tried to sleep it off. She woke up that evening feeling reasonably like herself, and decided enough was enough. She packed up the rest of the meat from that deer, and the rest of her meager supplies just in case, and saddled up to head to Shady Belle and confront whatever awaited her there.

When she rode in, it was quiet. Kieran was the first person she saw, out working with the horses, as he was always wont to do before that unfortunate incident with his former gang. He seemed to be in chipper spirits nonetheless, moving with surprising vigor as he dragged bales of hay around.

He stopped and looked up when he heard hoof beats approaching, and his face brightened when he saw who it was. "M-Miss Willa! Welcome back! We was all wonderin' when we'd see you again!" He brushed his hands together to wipe off the hay dust, walking over and taking Tulip's throat latch loosely in his fingers and rubbing her neck with the other hand, holding the mare steady in a polite gesture while Willa dismounted.

"Hey, Kieran. It's real good to see you, too." She noticed he still had those bandages wrapped around his head, and that reminded her of at least one useful thing she'd done while she'd drunkenly scuttled around the city. She reached down and dug in her satchel, finally producing a small piece of black cloth that she held out towards him. "I uh…managed to pick this up for you. Not exactly a pleasant gift, I guess, but all things considered…"

He reached out and gently took the eye patch from her, looking at it pointedly for a moment before stuffing it into one of his back pockets and clearing his throat. "Th-thank you. Ya know, I'm still feelin' real lucky about that whole thing. Thinkin', losin' one eye ain't such a bad price to pay considerin' what else could've happened."

The corner of her mouth quirked up as she moved to the saddlebags to retrieve the packages of deer meat she'd brought. "You got the right idea, Kieran. Thinkin' some of us could learn a thing or two from you about…well, keepin' positive about things, I suppose."

He tilted his hat back so that he could scratch at the top of his head before extending his hands out to take the deer meat from her. She noticed there were several horses missing, and glanced back at him as they started walking toward the plantation house. "So, uh…what's been goin' on here?"

He returned her glance, falling a tad nervous all of a sudden. "W-well, Dutch and the rest left hours ago to go r-rob that bank. We been waitin' on 'em to get back. The girls and Miss Grimshaw and Mr. P-Pearson been packin' some things up already, expectin' we're gonna be movin' out real quick-like once they ride back in…"

Willa pursed her lips and nodded, catching sight of a few others and nodding hellos as they came up by the chuck wagon to hand that meat over to Pearson.

"Miss Thorne! Come bearing gifts, I see. I'll take those. There's stew already in the pot if you're hungry."

She gave Pearson a meager smile and nodded. "Thanks. Anything I can do to help?" If the men weren't back yet, she guessed she'd have to stick around and wait for Arthur and the rest to return at this point.

"Go speak with Grimshaw, she'll probably have ten different things lined up, I'm sure."

Willa's smile fell and she gave him a weak nod. She'd been at odds with the woman since that night they'd catted at each other about Arthur and Lenny. Grimshaw had never really been _nice_ to her, but she had offered up odd little nuggets of affection here and there, and it confused Willa to no end.

She offered herself timidly to Susan, who eyed her up and down with a prim expression before telling her to head into the house and help Tilly pack up some of the things in the men's rooms.

Willa found the young girl in Hosea's room on the first floor, just getting ready to close and latch the old man's clothing trunk. "Hi, Tilly…"

Tilly whipped around in surprise, but her face brightened at the sight of the other woman. "Miss Willa! Welcome back!"

She scuffed the toe of her boot against the floor, leaning up against the doorframe. "Thanks. Good to see you, too. Uh…Grimshaw said I could help you in here?"

"Well, sure. I'm just about finished in here, but you could go up to Arthur's room and start? Lots of ammunition to pack up, so it'll probably take a while. " She rolled her eyes as she continued. "I sent Molly upstairs to pack up their room, but somethin' tells me she's just up there cryin' and talkin' to herself."

Willa grimaced, looking down at the floor. "Uh…you sure there isn't anywhere else you want me to start? Maybe I could go help Molly…"

"Oh, nonsense. I'll go deal with her. And once I finish, I'll come help you." She gave Willa a warm smile, coming over to envelop her in a hug. "Then when those boys get back, we'll all be headin' far away from here."

Willa returned the hug somewhat awkwardly, clearing her throat as she put a hand on Tilly's shoulder. She was having her doubts about even entertaining the possibility of picking up and traveling with the gang; she knew Dutch would object to it, and as much as she liked the girls and most of the others, a small quiet voice inside her continued to whisper that maybe Arthur would still just leave with her instead. "I hope so…"

Tilly pulled back and held her at arm's length for a moment. "Of course. Now come on. We gotta make sure everything's ready."

Willa let herself smile a bit and nodded, turning for the stairs. She couldn't help being impressed with Tilly's attitude, even if she couldn't bring herself to such cheerfulness. "Okay, all right. I'm goin'!"

She made her way up the stairs to Arthur's room, closing the door softly behind her and leaning back against it for a minute. She let her eyes wander over his belongings, spread out across the bureau and the table pushed up against the wall. The picture of his mother; the picture of him, Hosea and Dutch when they'd all been much younger; his satchel and hat were sitting on the table on top of his map.

She puffed out a breath and made her way over to the table, reaching out to pick up the old gambler hat gingerly and turn it in her hands. She twirled the leather cord idly in between her fingers for a few moments before her gaze landed on another picture in front of her, angled toward his bed so she hadn't seen it when she'd first walked in. She recognized the frame as the one that had once adorned Mary Linton's portrait, but a different photograph rested within it now. It was her, stretched out on Black Belle's bed, giving the photographer a sheepish smile while she pulled a strand of hair behind one ear.

She felt her heart dropping into her stomach. _Oh, Arthur_. Willa sucked in a little gasp, reaching out to pick up the frame. He must have gotten some of those photographs developed while they'd been stopped in Van Horn five days ago. And he could have only just had the opportunity to put it in the frame since they'd split up back in Pleasance. She ran her fingertips over the photo briefly before swallowing a lump in her throat and hastily setting the picture back down. Maybe there was still hope that she could redeem herself.

She tried to gather herself up, sniffling slightly. She had to hold out hope that he hadn't given up on her just yet. She turned then to scan those ammunition crates stacked against the opposite wall. There was plenty of it loose and lying around, but she figured it wouldn't take long to get it all packed back up. The harder part would be lugging the huge crates down the stairs.

Once Willa was done getting the superficial things packed away and ready to be moved, she made her way out of Arthur's room and down through the first floor, deciding she'd might as well help herself to a bit of that stew. She greeted Uncle and Sean as she passed by the poker table, stopping to inquire what the hell the Irishman had done to himself.

He puffed out an exasperated sigh, explaining his drunken attempts at helping Karen get her jewelry back before cursing out Arthur and Dutch for not letting him participate in the robbery because of it. "Just 'cause I'm down one arm don't mean I can't carry me own weight in stolen money!"

"Goddamn idiot…" She continued on past them, making her way over to the cook fire with the stew pot hung above it, putting rather savory smells out into the thick night air of the swamp. She saw Mary-Beth, Kieran and Karen sitting over by the main campfire with Jack, and Strauss was huddled up under a tree on the opposite side of the clearing near the back of the house.

"Willa!"

She glanced up from the business of spooning some of that stew out into a bowl to see Sadie approaching. "Sadie." She offered a smile and a brief nod as she stood up.

"Good to see you back. Arthur's been mopin' around even sadder'n usual the last couple days. Startin' to get awfully irritatin'."

Willa scoffed gently, spooning up some of the stew. "Yeah, we got some things we need to say to each other, I guess. They should be back soon, right?"

Sadie could only shrug her shoulders, about to open her mouth to speak again when the sound of thundering hoof beats reached them from up the road. They both looked over to see one horse skidding to a stop on top of the little wooden bridge at the entrance to the property, with two riders hastily dismounting.

Willa's mouth hung slack for a moment before she suddenly came to her wits and followed Sadie over towards the riders, that bowl of stew still clutched in one of her hands.

"Charles?" Sadie called out, recognizing the big man's form in the darkness.

"Sadie. Listen, we need to get this place packed up…" He talked while he moved, Abigail bunching up the skirts of her dress in her hands as she ran past them, towards where Jack and the others were sitting by the fire.

Sadie blinked and shook her head, immediately turning to fall into step beside him. "What you mean? What happened? Where're the others?"

Charles shook his head, huffing out a heavy breath and finally stopping to glance between her and Wilhelmina. "It's...things're bad. We lost Hosea and Lenny. John was arrested. The others…hopefully they made it onto a boat."

Sadie gasped and startled slightly at the sound of a thud and a wet sloshing on the ground. That bowl of stew had tumbled out of Willa's trembling hand. She took a step forward through the mess, the toe of her boot kicking the spoon a few inches. "What…?"

Charles' brows furrowed even further as he clenched and unclenched his fists anxiously. He knew they should be busy packing the place up and getting ready to leave, but the others did need to know what had happened. "Lenny and Hosea were shot. The Pinkertons, it's like they knew we were there. I…I think they took John alive. The rest of us managed to escape across the rooftops and hide out until nightfall. Dutch's plan was to get down to the docks and sneak onto a boat, hide out somewhere off the mainland for a few weeks until things died down. I split off from them to try and give them a chance at it, found Abigail on my way out of the city and rode straight back here. We need to pack up and leave. Now."

Willa suddenly felt the world narrowing to a tunnel in front of her. Hosea _and_ Lenny? That couldn't be true. That couldn't have happened. She looked around blearily as Sadie turned to start barking out orders to the rest of the camp, Grimshaw catching on and taking over for her soon after. Abigail was bustling Jack inside the house to get their belongings packed.

Charles remained standing next to her for a moment, reaching out to tentatively put a hand on her arm. "Will you help us? We need to get away from here before the law comes looking. We've got to be gone tonight."

She glanced up quickly, nodding her head and chewing her lip for a moment. "O-of course. Yes. I…I spent the afternoon packing up Arthur's room, if you and Mr. Pearson could carry the ammunition downstairs, that would-"

She was rambling, and he cut her off as gently as he could. "I know it's…a lot. Just, help us get out of here and we can sit and talk it over once we've found somewhere safer to settle." He patted her arm once before moving away from her to call for Pearson to come help him.

She sprang to action suddenly, making a running break for the house to bolt back up the stairs and grab up Arthur's hat and his satchel, slinging one over her head and the other around her shoulder, respectively, before hastily moving around and filling her arms up with his various knickknacks and cramming them into his clothing trunk.

She could not let herself stop to think about what Charles had said. There was the burning sting of tears threatening just behind her eyes and all she could do was blink it away and keep going. Keep working. She hauled as much as she could carry in her arms down the stairs, loading it up into Arthur's munitions wagon as Pearson and Charles headed inside to begin lugging out the heavier crates and boxes.

Karen and Mary-Beth worked at getting their wagon packed up, while Tilly and Sean broke down the tents by the campfire. Reverend Swanson was busy packing up their provisions back into the chuck wagon, and Strauss loaded all their medical supplies and his various journals and ledgers back into his own wagon. Kieran ran back and forth, leading horses over to hitch them up to the front of the wagons for whenever they were finally ready to be on their way.

In a few hours, Shady Belle was looking almost as sparse as it had when they'd first arrived just a few weeks ago. Charles was wracking his mind, pacing back and forth by the fountain with his pipe in his hand trying to figure out where they could move the camp to. He saw Willa exiting the house with Sadie, a large crate hefted up between them as they made their way toward the back of one of the wagons.

"You two. You got any ideas where we'd be able to lay low? We can't return to any of the old camps, and I don't know anything else about the country out here. I'm…well, I'm at a loss."

Sadie shook her head, being equally as ignorant of that part of the country as Charles was. Willa spoke up though, suddenly thinking of a place she'd seen close by Black Belle's little shack out in Bluewater Marsh. "The place I've been camped at is too small for all of us, but I think I know somewhere else close by. It's pretty run down, but there's plenty of outbuildings and it's got water on one side of it, so we can't be surrounded if anyone shows up."

Charles nodded, seemingly satisfied as he took one last puff from his pipe and tapped the ashes out of it before returning it to one of his pockets. "As long as it's not too far from St. Denis. I imagine, whenever the rest of them come back, they'll try to make port somewhere close by." He squinted slightly, the logistics of trying to leave the other men a message suddenly presenting its own difficulty to him.

Grimshaw suddenly piped up from over by one of the wagons like she'd read his mind. "Someone needs to write 'em a note. We'll leave it here. Address it to 'Uncle Tacitus.' Make it vague, but tell them wherever it is we're goin' to. So if any one of 'em shows back up here, they'll know it's from us and where they can find us. It's a trick we've used before, and it's always served well."

Willa and Sadie both turned from the back of the wagon, Willa reaching inside Arthur's satchel to pull out his journal so that she could tear a blank page from it. Sadie gave her a meaningful glance before holding out her hand, wiggling her fingers a little in a 'gimme' motion. "Maybe best to let me write it out, hon. Not that I ain't got faith in you but we don't need it soundin' too…personalized."

Willa chewed her lip for a moment before relenting to the other woman, handing her the piece of journal paper and Arthur's pencil, when she finally found it. "I think the place I'm thinkin' of is called Lakay. It's just north of the city, but far enough away I don't think we'll have much trouble there."

Sadie nodded and retreated into the house to write out the note. Willa turned back to Charles, curling her arms around herself. "Are…are you sure they made it onto a boat, Charles?"

He glanced down at her, anxiousness easily seeping through his usually calm and collected demeanor. "I think so. I was trying to distract the police to give them a chance to run, but I didn't hear any gunshots, so I…have to believe they made it."

She gave him a faint nod, turning to see if there was anything else she could help anyone with. She couldn't let herself idle. Abigail was helping little Jack up into the back of one of the wagons, getting ready to climb up in behind him. Sean was already seated on the driver's bench, and Pearson was climbing up onto the bench of his wagon. "Seems like we're just about ready to go. I'll go get Tulip, and…lead us out to Lakay, I suppose."

Charles nodded at her, making his way toward the munitions wagon to climb up onto the bench. As soon as Sadie came back out of the house, she followed Willa out to the hitching posts to mount up on Bob and the group readied themselves to clear out of Shady Belle for good.

It was a morbidly silent ride up through the eastern side of Scarlett Meadows. Willa kept them to the west of the Kamassa River, taking them up past Pleasance and then east through Bluewater Marsh to avoid going anywhere close to the city. They hooked around the large swamp to head southwest and into the little plot known as Lakay, but of course there were some squatters out there that needed clearing out.

When their pleas were only answered with gunshots, Willa, Charles, Sadie and Miss Grimshaw took up their own guns and made sure to clear the property of its previous occupants. No one felt particularly good at having to do that, but all they could tell themselves was that it was survival of the fittest at this point. They pulled the caravan of wagons down into the property, spreading them out around the backsides of buildings and tucked out into the trees where they could, and began setting up a meager camp that would get them through the rest of that night until they could unpack more in the light of day.

Once little Jack was finally asleep, Abigail made her way out of the largest shack on the property to take a seat beside Willa, Charles and Sadie at the small campfire they'd lit a few hours earlier. Most of the rest had set up a few tents or were already asleep inside, and that left the four of them with nothing but doubts and worries to bounce off of each other as the night wore on.

Charles had managed to tell them everything that he had seen in as much detail as he could, and the picture it painted wasn't a pretty one. When Abigail joined them, she explained how Hosea had told her to run when the law suddenly came down on them, giving himself up in the hopes that at least she would be able to make it out safely. Tears spilled down her cheeks as she retold the story, and she had to stop a few times to try and compose herself enough to keep talking.

Willa could do nothing but sit and listen in horrified silence as she rolled and smoked untold numbers of cigarettes, silently offering them to Sadie and Abigail on occasion as they muttered to each other in hushed voices.

After a long bout of silence where the only sounds were bullfrogs and Abigail and Wilhelmina's quiet sniffles, Sadie finally spoke up, squinting over at Charles through the smoke rising up from the cigarette she held between her fingers. "So…I know this ain't a thought nobody wants to think, but…how can we be sure they'll even come back for us?"

Abigail raised her gaze sharply, giving Sadie a pointed look and replying before Charles even got the chance to. "Dutch ain't gonna leave us. He might'a been actin' funny lately, but I known him long enough to know he won't abandon his family. Him _or_ Arthur. If they're alive, they'll come back for us. Meanwhile, we…we gotta do right by Hosea and Lenny. We gotta get them back and bury 'em. Proper, like."

Charles nodded, staring down at the flames in the fire as he sharpened his knife with a whetstone. "Got to go back for the horses, too. We should wait a few days though; the city's swarming with police and Pinkertons. Then, when things have cooled down, maybe we can figure out what they've done with John."

Abigail nodded vehemently as she worried her hands in her lap.

Sadie took a slow drag from her cigarette, crossing her legs and leaning forward to tap some ash off the end into the dirt. "And in the meantime…we just wait?"

Charles shrugged his shoulders, seemingly at a loss. "What else can we do…?"

Willa had been quiet throughout most of their discussion, and she finally excused herself from the group with the pretense of going to set up her tent. She could have just as easily ridden back to Black Belle's old stilt shack just to the north, but she couldn't bear being alone with the knowledge of everything that had happened. She needed to stay with the group now, both to help them and herself.

Sadie furrowed her brows and watched the other woman as she lurched away from their little campfire. She knew Willa had been close with both Lenny and Hosea. She also knew there had been _something_ going on with her and Arthur. After a few minutes she heaved out a sigh, excusing herself from the other two to go trail after Wilhelmina and try to make sure that she was alright.

Sadie found her over by one of the furthest outbuildings, tent half set up and abandoned a few feet away from where she sat huddled up on a rock, staring out at the dim lights that mutely reflected through the fog from Lagras. "Willa…you alright?"

Wilhelmina sniffled, reaching up to wipe at her tears with the heel of her hand. "No, Sadie. Not really…"

Sadie walked the few feet left between them to close the distance, squatting down next to where Willa sat. "M'sorry. I know it ain't easy, losin' both of 'em like that. And the others, fucked off to who knows where on a goddamn _boat_ …" A tinge of anger threaded through her voice.

Willa closed her eyes and laid her head against one of her arms, hugged up in a ball as if she could somehow protect herself that way, like some kind of armadillo. "The last thing I said to Lenny…was that some day he'd have a wife and a family that loved him…" Her lip trembled as she bit back a sob.

Sadie sighed, adjusting herself so that she was a bit better balanced before placing a hand on Willa's shoulder and looking up at her. "I know it's…hard, right now, thinkin' about all of what you should'a said and didn't say and all the rest of it. And I ain't…maybe ain't in no place to offer too much comfort. But I just want you to know that we _need_ you here with us right now, okay? I need you here with us, I need you to stay strong, 'cause it's you, me and Charles that's gonna have to take care of these folks now. Grimshaw'll keep puttin' folks to work as she does, but _we're_ gonna be needin' to provide for 'em. Can you do that for me, Willa?"

She chewed at her lip for a long time before glancing down at Sadie. "Yes. I'm sorry, I know you need help. I'll…I'll try to pull myself together…"

"I ain't tryin' to take you away from your grief. Lord knows I've taken my time with my own. I just need you to try and be strong for me, until those men come back. Okay?"

Willa nodded, reaching up to place her hand over Sadie's. "Yeah…" She didn't want to bring up the inevitable _IF_ that hovered around the edges of her mind like a damn mosquito, bumping and buzzing around in there and leaving her no relief. _If the men came back. If_ Arthur _came back._ There was so much that could go wrong, it was almost astounding. If they were discovered as stowaways, they could be killed and dumped over the side with nary a word. Or tied up and brought back for the bounty. Or dropped on some deserted island to starve to death. She had to force herself to take a deep breath and just _stop_.

Sadie groaned as she finally stood back up, removing her hand to let it rest over the holster at her hip. "You should get some rest, hon." She glanced over at the single pole planted at a 70 degree angle in the dirt, the canvas bunched in a pile on the ground beside it. "You uh…want some help gettin' your tent set up?"

Willa snorted out a sardonic little laugh, glancing behind to look at the disaster she'd left only partially put together because she'd been much more in need of a good cry. "Sure. Thanks, Sadie." She uncurled herself and stood up, walking over to grab up the other pole that was lying on the ground a few feet away.

A few nights later, Willa found herself riding back in to St. Denis with Charles and Abigail in one of the wagons they'd emptied out. They'd all put on fine clothes so as to be inconspicuous, hoping to sweet talk their way into the police station to get to Lenny and Hosea's bodies.

Tilly had been positively delighted to finally put Willa into one of her many dresses, despite the somber circumstances. Tilly had reminded her more than a few times how lovely she looked in it as she sat and braided Willa's hair, even managing to sneak in a little comment that if Arthur had been there, he probably would think she looked lovely as well. She knew Tilly had only been trying to cheer her up, but it made her feel even worse that she really just could not meet the other woman's enduring good humor. She'd tried to swallow down that bitterness and just smile and nod, but she was sure it was a thin enough veneer.

The day before this she'd ridden into the city with Uncle, Sean, Karen and Kieran to grab four of the horses, but Llamrei and Old Boy were still hitched up down the street from the bank. They'd managed to feed them at least, before leaving them there for another night. It also gave them the opportunity to send Karen into the police station, acting as a grieving widow to try and get them an idea of where the hell the St. Denis police kept the bodies.

Willa sighed, smoothing her hands down the plaid fabric covering her lap. She felt positively naked without her gun, and the anxiety of what they were about to try and do was settling itself down upon her with all the subtlety of a goddamn avalanche. "So…we wanna get the horses first, or…?"

Charles nodded as he cracked the reins, guiding the wagon into the city. "Yes. Probably easier that way. If we can get Lenny and Hosea out of there, best to be on our way as soon as possible. You two riding on your own will be much less conspicuous."

Charles brought the wagon to a stop in front of where Rei and Old Boy were hitched, and Willa and Abigail made their way down off the wagon and over to the two horses. Willa ran a hand over Rei's neck, scratching with her nails a bit and giving her a few good pats before pulling herself up by one stirrup so that she was sitting sidesaddle.

Abigail followed suit, and they rode off toward the police station behind Charles, meandering carefully down the clogged cobblestones of St. Denis. They hitched the horses across the street while Charles drove the wagon around into the alley beside the police station.

Abigail and Willa smoothed down their skirts as they entered through the doors, drawing the attention of an older officer who was manning the front desk. There was no way further into the police headquarters without being let in, so the girls put on their most distressed faces as they bustled up to the pane of glass that separated them from the officer.

"Something I can do for you ladies?"

Abigail stepped forward, curling her fingers over the counter. "Where are they!? I want to see the animals that murdered my husband!"

The policeman blinked, the corner of his thick gray mustache twitching slightly. "I-I'm sorry…?"

Willa stepped up to the counter next, clutching at a small purse she held just under her chest. "Those bastards who robbed the bank. We heard you got the ones who blew up the printing press on the north side of town. Both our husbands were in that building!"

Abigail splayed her hand on the counter, cranking it up a notch. "I want to see the bastards! I want to make sure they're dead!"

The officer harrumphed and cleared his throat awkwardly, glancing back around on both sides before leaning in towards them. "Well we do have two of 'em downstairs, but…well, this is a little unorthodox, misses…surely you all understand…"

It was easy enough for Wilhelmina to let the tears start spilling from her eyes. It seemed no matter how much she'd cried in the last few days, there was always more that could be done. "Please, sir. It would give us great peace of mind. We ain't askin' much. Just let us see 'em. Just for a few minutes. Just so we know some of that goddamned van der Linde gang's actually been caught…"

The officer heaved a sigh, quirking the bristly mustache once more before offering the two women a quick nod. He walked around to the door and opened it, extending an arm to usher them inside the station, and guided them to another door off to the side that opened on a staircase headed to the basement. "Now don't say I didn't warn you. We don't normally let folk see these kinds of things unless we're trying to have remains identified…"

"Thank you, sir. It may seem a bit morbid, but it means a great deal to us both…makin' sure our husbands wasn't taken for nothin'…" Abigail followed the officer down the stairs first, Willa trailing close behind with her skirts bunched up in her fists so that she wouldn't trip.

He led them to a locked door, offering them both one more meaningful glance as he sifted through a ring of keys. They both nodded, and when he had the door unlocked, he cleared his throat once more before standing to the side and holding it open for them. They entered, and the girls' stomachs both lurched.

The smell was what got them. This was the city's morgue, for all intents and purposes, and it was not a pleasant or sterile thing to behold. Tables and gurneys laid cluttered with bodies of the dead from the shootout that had ensued during the robbery, some with tags to identify them, but most without.

"Them two crooks we actually managed to catch are over here by the wall," the officer said as he led them across the room, zigzagging between bodies as he went. "All the others are…just about all police and Pinkerton detectives, I'm afraid. Some bodies we've recovered from the printers. Are you ladies sure you wouldn't prefer to try and find your husbands…?"

Willa fumbled, finding herself at a loss for words at the question she wasn't expecting and the overwhelming smell of blood and death that accosted her. The sheer number of bodies was in itself overwhelming. _All these people_

"No thank you, sir. Our husbands was decent, faithful men, and neither of 'em come home that day. Don't think I could bear seein' my Jim like this yet, and don't want to waste your time, neither, spendin' all night lookin' underneath these sheets. All we're askin' is a few minutes to pray these other bastards swiftly into hell, right Mary?" Abigail had saved them, as quick with her lies as Arthur was with a gun.

Willa blinked and managed a nod, covering her mouth with her hand for a few moments. "You're just right, Adeline. Would you mind terribly, sir, givin' us a few minutes in here?"

The officer sighed, scratching on the stubble that adorned his jawline. "I…well, I suppose I could do that for you ladies. Only a few minutes though, all right? And please don't touch anything. I'll be just outside the door when you're ready…"

He left them there, in the overbearing silence of a room full of the dead. Abigail swallowed thickly, tentatively reaching out to lift the sheet over one of the bodies. Willa moved over to a window high up on the wall that looked out on the cobblestones outside, reaching up to tap on the glass to try and get Charles' attention. Feet appeared a few moments later, and then he was kneeling down and peering in through the glass towards them.

They had to slide the table with the bodies over so that it was underneath the window, but Willa managed to climb up and get it unlatched so that they could speak with Charles. "Anybody else out there?"

"No, not right now. It's dark enough that we should be able to get them out through here with nobody noticing."

The girls worked as quickly as they could, wrapping Hosea and Lenny in the sheets that acted as their shrouds before awkwardly using their combined strength to lift them each up to the window in turn so that Charles could take them and get them situated in the back of the wagon.

They assured him they'd be back outside in a few minutes, hastily closing the window and re-latching it before climbing down off the table. Willa chewed her lip before belting out a loud "Go to hell, you bastards!" She took a heavy, steadying breath before following Abigail to the door before the other woman nodded to her and gave a soft knock.

The officer opened the door for them and locked it once again after they'd exited, offering the women his condolences about their husbands before leading them back up the stairs. None the wiser, he bid them as good a night as two newly made widows could manage to have before returning to his duties at the front desk. Willa and Abigail left the station, mounted up on the horses and followed after Charles when they saw him coming out of the alley with the wagon.

Once they were well out of the city, the two women rode up so that they were both beside the wagon, but no one could think of anything much to say. They were thankful they'd been able to pull it off without a hitch, but it had been emotionally exhausting work, even for how quick they'd been about it.

Charles finally broke the silence some time later in the night, pulling up on the horses' reins to slow the wagon. He lifted a hand to point to a large tree that loomed in the darkness just off the road to their left. "There. Seems like a decent enough place to bury them."

Willa and Abigail stopped their own horses, gazing over the distance towards that tree. It was starting to get late, probably better to get the business done now rather than saving it. And it _was_ a decent spot; that tree was the largest one in sight, standing tall with large branches that splayed in all directions, decorated in garlands of spanish moss. The women both nodded their agreement, and the little caravan made its way off the road toward the clearing beneath the tree.

They lit a few lanterns to help them see by what little moonlight filtered down through the clouds, setting them on the ground a good ways apart from each other. They'd only been able to find two shovels to bring, so the women took turns digging while Charles insisted on working at it straight through until they'd finished. Deeper and deeper the holes became, and dirtier their clothes, and wearier their hearts until some time in the early morning hours they had finally finished.

Charles carried the bodies over from the wagon and placed them in their plots in the ground as tenderly as he could. When the first shovelful of dirt went over Hosea, Abigail was the first to suddenly burst into tears. She'd been holding her composure remarkably well that whole day, far better than could be said for Willa, but when she started in, Willa's already brittle exterior crumbled as well.

They got a good bit of their crying done as they worked at filling in the men's graves. Charles promised them he'd craft some markers to bring back over the next week, and they both thanked him for it. The three of them stood silently by the two plots for a while before Abigail finally leaned down on one knee, resting her palm atop one of the mounds of soil. "Take care, boys…you was…two of the best of us…" Abigail's voice cracked at the end, and she had to put a hand over her mouth and look away.

Willa planted her hands on her hips and turned away as well, screwing her eyes shut in a weak attempt at maintaining what little composure she'd found. She had a lot she wanted to say, but not now. She needed to be alone to say goodbye to them, on no one else's time but her own to let the important words find themselves. The things she'd never gotten the chance to say.

Charles took a few tentative steps forward, putting a gentle hand on Abigail's shoulder. "Didn't have the privilege of knowing them long. But they fought well. And they loved well. They _were_ two of the best of us…"

He leaned down a few moments later, offering her a hand to help her back to her feet. Abigail accepted his hand and stood, giving him a gracious nod before suddenly burying her face against his chest.

Willa's heart clenched, feeling an overwhelming sympathy with Abigail just then; not only was she dealing with the death of a friend and a father figure, but the father of her child was in the custody of the Pinkertons after a horrific shootout in the middle of a crowded city. They didn't know if he'd be hanged; they didn't even know at that moment if he was actually still alive. The whole thing was a goddamn mess, all right.

Willa heaved out a sigh and forced her weary limbs to move, crossing the short distance to pick their shovels up off the ground and retrieve the lanterns. "We should get back. I'm sure Sadie's chompin' at the bit, wonderin' where we are…" She cleared her throat, trying to blink back the tears that still threatened behind her eyes.

Charles nodded, gently holding Abigail out at arm's length so that he could look down and get an assessment. "We can have Old Boy follow behind if you'd rather ride in the wagon?" He glanced over at Willa, raising his voice slightly so that she'd hear him as she made her way to deposit their tools. "That goes for either of you. Digging graves isn't easy work. If both of you want to rest, I'll get us back to camp."

Abigail nodded, slowly angling away from him and crossing her arms. "Might not be a bad idea. If I'm asleep, I can't feel like shit, right?"

"One can only hope…thank you Charles, but I think I'll ride Rei back. Think she's about as worried as the rest of us are. Poor thing seems like she's been anxious as hell since we found her yesterday." Willa made her way over to the mare whose tail flicked nervously at the thick air.

Charles nodded as he and Abigail walked towards the wagon. "Arthur's good with his horses. Don't think she's been away from him this long since he brought her home from the stables…I'm sure she can tell things aren't right."

They made their way back to Lakay in the somber silence they had all become far too accustomed with over the last few days, Charles and Abigail up on the bench of the wagon and Willa riding along beside. It was almost dawn, and all three of them seemed to be balancing in some limbo between utter exhaustion and a fatal anxious energy that snatched all thoughts of sleep away. Willa hoped desperately that she could sleep, because Abigail had been far more right than she even knew.


	19. Lakay - Dark Night of the Soul

It had been three and a half weeks since Dutch, Arthur, and the others had vanished from St. Denis. For almost a month what remained of the gang had been struggling to live in Lakay, every single day passing with agonizing slowness towards an uncertain end. Willa felt like she was living on the edge of an abyss. She had read in the St. Denis newspapers about a week before that a ship carrying coal bound for Cuba had gone down somewhere in the Gulf of Mexico, and that knowledge had been worn and polished a little more inside her mind like a dark pearl with every day Arthur stayed gone.

She had tried to keep herself as busy as she could, going out hunting with Sadie or Charles, helping the girls with the washing and sewing, or helping Kieran with the horses. Sadie had stepped up immensely in the last few weeks, taking on the burden of leadership with a kind of zeal that was unknown to Willa. Not that she was picking up Dutch's mantle of planning robberies and scams, but she _had_ taken it upon herself to try and keep people's spirits up; keep them focused. Especially with Charles riding out to spend a few days here and there up with that tribe at Wapiti, it was left to Sadie, Willa and Miss Grimshaw to keep things running at camp.

Molly had been the biggest hitch in their success on that front; the young woman had started drinking heavily, lashing out at anyone and everyone within earshot. It was starting to wear down their tenuous balance on the edge of hope. She'd gotten into more than a few heated fights with Karen in particular, who had never openly been a fan of Dutch's young plaything. Molly had still been stubbornly refusing to do any sort of work around their new camp, choosing instead to drink most of her days away, intermittently crying and scrawling incomprehensible poetry onto any scraps of paper she could find.

Even Grimshaw had begun trying to take her to task, which was a relatively novel development; up until now, Molly had been off-limits because of her relationship with Dutch. But things had changed. Dutch wasn't there. And it had been clear to everyone that their relationship had devolved into a pitiful and one-sided farce even before the bank tragedy. It was an odd thing for most of them to see Grimshaw siding with Karen in a fight, but their patience was wearing dreadfully thin with Miss O'Shea, and Sadie and Willa both feared that tempers were soon going to be boiling over in an irreparable way if nothing changed.

Sean had been taking Mary-Beth, Karen and Tilly into the city some days to do some pickpocketing and simple robbery, things that were fairly easy and low-profile that nabbed them just enough cash to buy necessities: liquor and food stuff mostly, and some medical supplies and ammunition when they were needed.

Willa and Sadie tended to spend long nights talking, usually while practicing throwing knives or just shooting targets to let out some of their frustrations. Sadie'd done an admirable job of trying to keep Willa away from their stash of liquor, but it was Molly's behavior more than anything that kept her on a fairly straight and narrow path. In the last few days, Molly'd taken up berating the rest of them about her assurance that the men would not be coming back for them. They were either dead or run off to some island to hide away, never to return.

One afternoon, Willa had just taken a seat by the campfire after chopping some firewood when Sean approached her with a bottle. His arm was still swaddled in a thin layer of bandages, but that was to prevent him from going hog-wild scratching at the scabbing skin more than anything else at this point. He took a seat on a crate beside her, lighting a cigarette and offering her one from his pack.

"Well thanks, Sean…" Willa reached over and plucked one out, retrieving a box of matches from her pocket to light it.

"Any time, Miss T'orne. So, uh…you and Mrs. Adler, there. Just wanted to say, you lasses are doin' real fine."

Willa blinked, blowing out a puff of smoke and raising an arm to wipe some sweat from her forehead. She squinted slightly, furrowing her brows in a puzzled way. "Real fine with what?"

Sean waved the bottle vaguely around. "Wit' all o' this. The camp, gettin' us settled 'ere, keepin' the family together." He looked down at the fire for a few moments before taking a drag from his cigarette and offering the bottle out to her. "If not for Charles and the two o' you, I t'ink more'n a few folks would 'ave scampered off for the hills by now."

She eyed the bottle for a moment before reaching out to take it from him. Just a moment of indecision. She'd probably catch hell from Sadie for it later, but what was the harm? She'd been good. And she enjoyed sharing drinks with Sean, anyway; he was so loquacious, it made it hard for her to get lost in the muddled uncertainties floating around in her own head.

She found herself lowering her voice, leaning in a bit closer to him in an almost conspiratorial way. "I'm…I been wonderin', though…why _aren't_ folk leavin'? I mean…if anyone wanted to get out of all this, now would be the time, wouldn't it?"

Sean returned a pointed look at her as she took a swig from the bottle. "Now, I know what 'appened in St. Denis weren't pretty, love, but t'at just ain't how we operate. These folk are scared. Fuck, they pulled my bloody teeth when they caught me. Nobody else wants that. And after Hosea and Leonard…no. We stay 'ere, we keep our eyes and ears open, we wait for Dutch and the others to come back. Then we-"

"Wait for Dutch to come up with another plan…?" She took one more swig before handing the bottle back to Sean. "What is it about him, Sean? Why do people follow him like some sort of…idol?"

Sean's brows furrowed as he took the bottle from her. "He saved a lot of us. He saved Johnny Marston from hangin' when 'e was just a wee lad. Saved Javier, Miss Jackson, your boy Morgan…hell, from what I 'eard, he saved Mrs. Adler too. Folk here _believe_ in Dutch, 'cause 'e's given 'em somethin' to believe in when they didn't 'ave nothin' before. Showed 'em kindness and decency when there wasn't none to be 'ad before. Showed 'em you can fight corruption and power, not just stand by and let the bastards take advantage o' you and yours…"

"But…but what's all of this gonna come to? Lenny was your friend, and now he's…" She paused for a moment, shaking her head before splaying her fingers in frustration and taking a trembling drag from her cigarette. She couldn't bring herself to finish the sentence.

He sighed and passed the bottle back to her. "We all know the risks. Ain't a very nice chat to 'ave, but that's the truth. I miss that clever little bastard, I do…more'n you know. But when you run wit' a gang…" He quirked his mouth and shrugged his shoulders noncommittally.

Willa just shook her head and took another long drink from the bottle. It was an enduring mystery to her, their fascination with Dutch van der Linde. Their _reliance_ on him. It sounded uncouth to even think it, but she didn't understand how all of these people depended on him to make decisions about their lives. As if handing him their unwavering loyalty also meant giving up all responsibility for themselves and their own choices. They waited on Dutch for their orders, and if things went wrong, they inevitably waited on Dutch to fix it.

Even Arthur, trying to cajole her with the idea of one more big score, just a _little_ bit more money. She was willing to bet that he was simply repeating what Dutch had said to him. It made her heart ache, the way Arthur seemed so compliant in his own inability to think for himself; he spoke of it sometimes as if he really were too stupid to have a choice. God, she missed him.

There were so many things she wished she could say to him. When she wasn't able to keep herself busy, her mind ran wild with hypothetical conversations, running over and over how she could perfectly express to him how sorry she was for the things she had said. She'd never had anyone treat her the way he did; not as an object to be used or as some sort of freak for the way she acted and dressed, but a thinking, feeling human being – an equal. And she'd been so goddamn scared of getting hurt, now that she'd finally thought she'd found something good, she'd gone ahead and tried to ruin it herself before he could ever get the chance to grow tired of her.

She'd never even entertained the thought that a person could come into her life by accident and change it so much in just a handful of months. Granted, those months had been intense for both of them, but to feel like there was someone she could try to trust? With her whole heart, or what tattered remains there were of it? The sudden physical element of their relationship had presented its own new set of problems, and she recognized that it had been a stupid thing to rush into, but she didn't find herself regretting it. Remembering how tenderly he'd treated her was one of the only goddamn things that helped her get to sleep at night. She clung to it like someone drowning.

Several hours later Karen, Swanson and Uncle had joined Wilhelmina and Sean by the fire. The gang was in particularly high spirits that evening, even Willa after the somber conversation she'd had with Sean. The others had started singing, and they'd even coaxed her to accompany them on the banjo. She had a few little duels with Uncle, and that got the other folks clapping and laughing and cheering their bottles with each other, reminiscent of the way they had back at Clemens Point.

That was, until Molly showed up. She must have heard the raised voices and laughter from her lonely perch off in one of the property's outbuildings, because she came stumbling around, sloshing an open bottle of rum and clutching at her skirts in one hand to try and stop herself from tripping over her long green dress. "You! What 'ave you all got to be so goddamn 'appy about!? Eh? Ain't any of ya realized we're all goin' to die in this fuckin' miserable fuckin' swamp!?"

Uncle's strumming came to an abrupt stop. Heads turned, voices lowered. Hands clutched at bottles a little tighter. Karen rolled her eyes about a mile, heaving out a loud, exaggerated sigh. "Jesus Christ, Molly, will you shut up and let us try and have a good time!? Just 'cause you're a miserable cow don't mean the rest of us gotta be all sad and sulky with ya!"

Molly bared her teeth, stumbling closer to the fire and holding out her own bottle as she pointed one trembling finger out at Karen accusingly. "You stupid trollop! You don't even 'ave a clue! You're all just deludin' yourselves, every single one o' you!"

Willa's jaw worked. She was drunk enough now that she didn't have the self-control to let Grimshaw's iron hand sort out the situation. She carefully leaned her banjo against the crate she was sitting on before standing up and turning to face Molly.

Sean put a hand on Karen's shoulder, urging her to stay seated. "Shut up, snooty West Briton. We've all 'eard enough o' your doubts. S'it really such a wonder ole Dutch didn't want you no more?"

Molly turned to face Sean, practically snarling at him. "If Dutch don't want me then 'e certainly don't want none of you lot either! 'Cause he's up and fuckin left all of us, eh, ain't 'e? Where is our great and godlike savior, Dutch van der Linde, now!? What are all o' his sheep going to do, now t'at he's gone and left us all to _rot_!?"

Everyone looked over at the click of a hammer being pulled back. Willa had her pistol drawn, centered on Molly's chest. "Enough."

Molly pursed her lips for a moment, then let out a loud scoff that quickly descended into peals of frenzied laughter. "You…you…!?"

Uncle began to slowly get to his feet from his spot by the fire, gently raising his hands. "Whoa now, Miss Willa…"

"Sit down. I said _enough_ , Molly…"

"Hey!"

Willa glanced over to see Sadie stalking towards them from where she'd hitched Bob over by the road. She had a deep frown on her face, obviously none too pleased to come back from a solo hunting trip and find the camp descending into threats of violence in her absence.

"Willa, put that goddamn gun down! Molly, would you shut your damn trap? I could hear your squawkin' from half a mile up the goddamn road! Are you idiots _tryin'_ to get us all killed!?"

Willa glanced over again as Sadie came up on her quickly. "I'm sick and tired of this shit, Sadie! _Everyone_ here is just doin' their best, tryin' to survive and keep their shit together! Everyone except her!" She leveled her gaze at Molly again, keeping that gun steady as she could. "If you'd just _help_ …just do _somethin_ ' to keep yourself busy, keep yourself from goin' eight different shades of _fuckin'_ crazy, maybe you'd actually get along with the folks here instead of pushin' 'em all away!"

"You ain't wrong, but that still ain't no good reason to be wavin' guns around! Abigail and Jack ain't out here?" Sadie glanced around, confirming they were not before nodding to herself and walking over to stand between Wilhelmina and Molly. She gave Willa a pained look when she realized the other woman was drunk. "C'mon, honey. Put your gun away."

Molly began cackling again from behind Sadie, waving that bottle around some more. "Oh, look at the two o' you! Little women, pretendin' at bein' men! Little Dutch and little Art'ur Morgan!"

Sadie afforded a quick glance back at Molly. "Molly, you might wanna shut your goddamn mouth, if you know what's good for you…"

Molly took a long drink from the bottle before letting it dangle at her side, sneering at Willa over Sadie's shoulder. "But you don't wanna _be_ Art'ur, do you? No…you'd rather be shaggin' 'im! _You ain't no better t'an me!_ And 'e left you, just like Dutch left me! That bloody bastard took _everything_ from me!"

Willa chewed her lip in silence for a moment before slapping the hammer forward and jamming her pistol back into its holster. Her eyes flicked to Sadie ever so briefly before she elbowed around the blonde woman, hands fisting at her sides. "You goddamn…mean-spirited…!"

Molly's eyes went wide and she went to take a step backwards, tripping over the skirts of her dress and falling on her backside into the dirt. The bottle of rum flew from her hand, rolling across the ground with its contents spilling out.

Sadie whipped around and grabbed Wilhelmina by her shoulders, trying to hold her back. "Both of you, fuckin' stop! You're actin' like goddamn children!"

Wilhelmina wrenched herself out of Sadie's grasp; her blood was up now, and there was little that could stop it. She'd had enough of Molly O'Shea. She bent down and dug her fingers into the collar of Molly's dress, wrenching her upwards. "Get out."

Molly winced and sputtered, blinking up at Willa blearily. "W-What?"

"If you hate all of us so much, and Dutch and the rest of 'em ain't comin' back, then... _get...out._ Go live your own goddamn life, _forget_ about Dutch and all the rest of us!" She hissed at Molly, shaking her to emphasize her point. "Ain't no reason for you to stay here anyway, right!?"

"I…"

"Hmm!?" Willa wrenched the girl upwards a little harder.

Molly's lip trembled, and she glanced upwards behind Willa as Sadie put a hand on the other woman's shoulder. Her gaze flicked back down and she sneered, trying to wiggle backwards and out from Willa's grasp. "Fine. Fine! I'd…I'd love nothin' better!"

Willa let the young woman go, slowly straightening herself up. Sadie stepped up beside her, removing her hand from Willa's shoulder to extend it in something of an offering. "Now, Miss O'Shea, we ain't gotta be hasty, here. I mean you ain't even got a horse…"

"She'll take one of the wagon horses. Won't you, Miss O'Shea?" Willa narrowed a pointed gaze at her, daring Molly to make a drunken threat or another barb about her and Arthur.

Molly got to her feet on slightly wobbly legs, reaching down to dust off the back of her dress. "'Fine…"

"Good. Have a nice life, Molly." Willa turned and walked away from the campfire, scooping up a bottle of whiskey as she went.

The rest of the people gathered around the fire sat in stunned silence, and Sadie glanced over at them before turning her focus back to Molly. "Miss O'Shea…"

"No. To hell wit' all o' you! I know you never liked me! And that little slag, Mary-Beth, takin' all his attention out from under me! _You all turned 'im against me_!" She balled her hands into fists and stalked off towards the little outbuilding where she'd been spending most of her time, presumably to pack her bags and hit the trail.

Sadie splayed her hands in frustration, heaving out a sigh and glancing back at the others. "Which one of you did it!?"

They all blinked, staring back at her slack-jawed.

"Which one of you started up this little goddamn party? This kinda shit ain't what we need right now, we should be keepin' the drinkin' and merry-makin' to a goddamn minimum, you fools! You see what it comes to!?"

Sean reached up to tilt his hat forward and scratch the back of his head guiltily. "Sorry, mam…"

Sadie planted her hands on her hips, sucked her teeth and shook her head. "Goddamnit…" She turned and followed in the direction Willa had gone, hoping to catch her cooling off somewhere. They'd all been under so much stress, she'd been half-waiting for something like this to happen; but she hadn't thought Willa would be the one to start it.

"Willa?" Sadie stumbled out into the darkness, cursing when her boot went in too deep into a soggy spot in the ground. "Goddamnit… _Willa_!?"

She found her over by her tent, hastily packing some things up into a blanket. "Willa, for Christ's sake, what are you doin'? Are you leavin' now too!?"

"Get outta here, Sadie!" She slung the makeshift blanket-bag over her shoulder and leaned over to pick up the whiskey she'd set down on the ground.

"Just talk to me! What the hell was that all about!?"

Willa rounded on her, baring her teeth at her friend. "She's obviously fuckin' miserable here, Sadie! She puts everybody on edge! She don't help out with anything! She needs to get the hell away from…from Dutch, and _everything_ around him! And that's us! And I can't…" She huffed out a breath, breaking her gaze away from Sadie. "I ain't got the patience anymore! And I know I made a goddamn ass out of myself, and I just…I just gotta get outta here for a bit. A few days, maybe. Please. Charles is supposed to be back from Wapiti tomorrow, you won't need me here…"

Sadie heaved a sigh, glancing around before leveling her gaze at Wilhelmina. "I can't force you to do nothin', Willa. I'd tell you to get your shit together and sleep it off, but I know you ain't gonna listen. Just…don't do anything stupid. Please."

Willa gave her an affirmative grunt and a gruff nod and shouldered past, making for where the horses were hitched.

A little while later she found herself lurching towards Lenny and Hosea's graves under that huge tree they'd found out to the east of Lakay three weeks ago. She hadn't gotten the opportunity to come back yet, and she figured this might be a good place to try and clear her head.

Molly's toxic and self-destructive behavior had taken much more of a toll on her than she'd let on to anyone and she'd probably overstepped her boundaries yet again by turning on the young woman, and she _knew_ Molly was probably scared shitless of being out all on her own, but…but what if she'd been right? That frightening prospect was what had finally set Willa off, because she was so goddamn scared of what it meant if it was true.

She came to a stop in front of the two graves. They had two simple markers now, thanks to Charles.

 _RIP Hosea Matthews._

 _RIP Lenny Summers._

She lifted that bottle of whiskey, taking a long drink from it before raising her arm to wipe her mouth on her sleeve, hissing at the burn in her throat. She heaved a shaky sigh, letting the bottle dangle at her side. She shifted from one foot to the other. "I…what am I doin'? What are any of us doing here? Why couldn't you fools get out of this before it was too late?"

She bit her lip, squeaking out a small sob and dropping to her knees. "Oh, Lenny…I did love you, like you were my brother…like how a goddamn brother is _supposed_ to be. _You_ showed me how it's supposed to be. You could've…Jesus, there was so _much_ you could've done…" She squeezed her empty fist where it rested atop one thigh, flexing the muscles anxiously.

"You should've gotten the chance to grow up…" She suddenly remembered that Lenny was only nineteen years old. The same age Eliza had been, when her and Arthur's son had been murdered. Willa slouched forward, wheezing slightly as a sob escaped her. Her heart ached for Arthur. She was by no means religious, but she found herself actually silently praying to whatever deity might be up there that he wasn't dead. She wasn't sure she could live with herself if all three of them were dead.

After a long bout of silence, she finally looked up at Hosea's marker. "Hosea…I was so goddamn happy when I figured out who you were…" She sniffled, a little crooked smile crossing her features at a sudden memory. "You remember…when you and Bessie was with us, and Daddy had gone into the city for a few days for somethin' or other. Everett was in one of his moods, and Lettie said somethin' to him, I don't even remember what it was…but he took her favorite doll right out of her hands, ripped it to pieces right in front of her. God, how she cried. And you took him right by his ear and chased him outta the house. Told him to start actin' like a goddamn man."

She sniffled and took another long swig of the whiskey, gritting her teeth afterwards. "And he tried to grab one of daddy's guns, but you were too quick for him. Had him dead to rights before he could even cock the damn thing. I remember…thinkin' I wanted to be like that. So sure of myself. Stickin' up for the people I loved, and havin' the skill to do it. And I asked Bessie. She was so sweet…she took me out, taught me how to use a gun to _defend_ myself, not just pick off shots at trespassers and animals and things. Got to the point where I couldn't figure out which of you I admired more…"

She fell silent again for a while, memories of the months spent with Hosea and Bessie flickering through her mind. She and Loretta had only been eleven when they'd shown up, but that had possibly been the best eight months of the two girls' lives. Everett was nineteen already, a broody and capricious young man with a short temper and no patience for the two little monsters that had murdered his mother. Hosea had tried imparting some wisdom to him, told him he had something of an adopted son back west who had gone through his own rough childhood; but everyone had a chance to make something of themselves, to become better than they were. Everett had certainly taken that with extreme liberty and run with it.

"I hope you're together again. You and Bessie. Take care of Lettie…and daddy, please. And Lenny, and Eliza and Isaac. And…and Arthur too. If…if he's…" She clamped her mouth shut and looked away, unwilling to finish what she'd started. That creeping doubt was there. Almost a month now, with not a word from any of them.

What was she going to do? How long was she going to wait? What if Molly was right? God, she'd kicked Molly out of their camp because the poor girl had only been saying the things she'd been thinking. The guilt of her actions lashed through her like a tornado, ripping up hope and faith and scattering them to distant corners. She was devastated, as devastated as she'd been when her sister had been killed all those years ago. Three straight weeks of keeping up a brittle mask of composure was becoming too taxing; the fear and the anger and the hopelessness were digging in with barbs and claws.

Some time much later in the night, she found herself wandering the streets of St. Denis. Thank God Tulip was sober, because she was barely able to guide the horse at all. She tried to dismount near the cemetery, almost catching her foot in the stirrup and breaking her leg. Thankfully she landed on the other foot and managed to do a sort of lunge-hop that sent her flying forward a few feet, but otherwise unharmed.

Willa tipped that bottle up, draining the last few drops that were left before tossing it off to the side to roll down across the cobblestones. She stumbled up toward the gates of Bronte's guesthouse, not sneaking, not really trying to be quiet.

A guard stood just outside the front of the house, craning his neck slightly when he noticed someone approaching. His hands tightened around the repeater clutched close to his chest. "Hey. No trespassin'."

She veered in through the front gate, not slowing her roll in the slightest; not that it was very fast to begin with. She had all the time in the world. "Sorry sir, I'ma bit lost, ya know…?"

His brows furrowed and he took a step forward to put more distance between the strange woman and the house. "How 'bout you go be lost somewhere else?"

"S'not very kind. Jus' want…someone to be _kind_ to me…"

The man blinked, lowering the gun ever so slightly.

She came on, reaching up to start unbuttoning the collar of her shirt. "S'so fuckin' _hot_ n'this stupid city…"

The corner of the guard's mouth quirked up and a few moments later that repeater was leisurely dropping to his side. He took a step further forward to meet the drunk woman, thinking it might very well be his lucky night. "It sure is, miss. You uh…need any help with that…?"

"Love some help…" Her hands dropped to her waist, grabbing at the fabric of her shirt to pull it out from where it was tucked into her pants.

"Heh…" He glanced around and back behind him briefly before slinging the repeater over his shoulder and moving forward to close the rest of the distance, hands immediately groping for the buttons she'd forgotten about.

One of her hands moved from the hem of her shirt to the hunting knife at her hip, and before his fingers could even undo the first button they'd sought, she was bringing that knife up and driving it into the soft flesh of his abdomen.

He let out a startled grunt, taking a step back and doubling himself over. His hands dropped to clutch at his stomach, and when he glanced down he could see his own blood slicking out hot, dark and glistening. He made a choking sound. "H-Help-!"

Willa lunged forward, grabbing him by the hair at the back of his head and running the blade of the knife across his throat. His cry was cut off, replaced with a liquid gurgling as she let him fall forward onto his face in the manicured grass.

She wiped the blood off the knife against the back of his pants, pausing for a moment before reaching down to fumble in his pockets, looking for a key she might be able to use. A small rational voice somewhere way in the back of her head hoped no one had heard his cry for help.

She finally found a ring of keys in one of his back pockets and stood, making her way to the door. It took a few tries to get the key into the lock, but eventually it was there and she turned it, reaching up and thumbing the latch to let herself inside. It was dark in the house, but she could distinguish faint light coming from a few rooms that must have still had lanterns burning in them.

Suddenly she was met by another one of what must have been Everett's newly assembled gang members. He came around the corner from what she thought she remembered being the library, a broken-down revolver in his hands that it looked like he was in the process of cleaning. "Hey, Alan-?"

He stopped in his tracks when he realized that the person who'd entered the house was not, in fact, Alan. "Oh, shit-!" The cloth he'd been using dropped from his hands, and he had no time to reassemble the gun, so he did the next best thing that came to mind – he threw it at her.

It hit Willa dead center on the sternum, pieces rattling across the floor as she stumbled backwards, her free hand flying up in a greatly delayed reaction. "Fuck-! Goddamnit!" She saw red, the corners of her mouth quirking down in a sneer as she growled and lunged at him, bringing that knife up.

The man tried to grab her wrist to stop the knife coming down, swinging one of his legs out to try and take hers out from under her. He succeeded, and she tumbled to the ground with a thud, groaning and cursing. He made to plant one of his feet on her chest, but just as his foot was coming down she managed to grab her pistol from its holster and angled it up at him, flicking the hammer and pulling the trigger with little regard for the sound it would make.

He grunted as a ragged hole in the side of his neck began bleeding out, stumbling down off her and careening a few steps before plowing into the side of the banister that led upstairs. He leaned his weight against it for a minute, one hand trying to fruitlessly put pressure on the gushing wound.

Willa scrambled to her feet, shaking slightly. She heard footsteps running through the house now, maybe two or three men, so she backed on into the room this fella had come out of, tucking herself around the corner in beside the doorframe to hopefully surprise them when they came looking.

"Oh shit! Spread out, spread out!"

She clutched both the pistol and the knife tightly, snorting shallow breaths through clenched teeth. She was starting to come to grips with the fact that she had probably made a very bad decision coming here looking for her brother, alone and hopelessly drunk.

A big man appeared half-way through the doorframe, craning his neck around to search for the intruder. Willa hauled off and jammed the knife into that soft spot where his neck met his shoulder, hooking her elbow around his arm to yank him all the way inside the room. While she was moving backwards she wrenched up hard with the knife, severing the artery in his neck before letting him drop to the floor. She looked up to see someone else entering the room at the sound of a scuffle and brought her other hand up to shoot him with the pistol.

He let out a yelp and tumbled backwards into the fella that was coming up just behind him.

"What the-!?"

Willa regained some of her brazen confidence, striding forward and unloading another bullet into the fourth man just after he managed to push his dying friend away. He cried out and stumbled back, tripping over the dead man by the banister and going down like a sack of rocks on top of him.

She paused, holding the pistol pointed up towards the ceiling while she listened for any more movement. None of these men had been her brother or Cliff, and she'd be damned if this was another situation like when they'd come to rescue Jack. She'd burn the whole goddamn city to the ground if they weren't here.

If Arthur did come back, she wanted a clean slate. If he didn't, well…she still wanted a clean slate, but this particular option was a determining factor in her current reckless abandonment. She needed this thing to be done, now, and she would keep pushing until it was; one way or another. _Damn_ Arthur, damn Hosea, damn Lenny, damn Molly O'Shea, damn Dutch…if life was going to be so cruel and unforgiving, then she could be cruel and unforgiving right back.

Willa didn't hear anything else, so she carefully made her way back out into the hallway and headed up the stairs, padding as softly as she could up the runners. She craned her neck around at the top, looking this way and that. Still no sounds. Making her way down the hallway, she was taken by surprise when a man came flying out of one of the doors, plowing her into the wall on the other side.

She wheezed as the wind was knocked out of her, her pistol flying out of her hand to bounce away across the floor. The man who'd bombarded her faltered momentarily, pulling away ever so slightly after one of his elbows had crunched into her breasts. "W-We're bein' attacked by a goddamn woman-!?"

She sucked in a breath that whistled in her throat, hissing through gritted teeth. "Surprise."

She still had hold of the knife, and she wasted no time in burying it into the side of his abdomen. He cried out, bringing one of his elbows up and bashing her chin with it, causing her teeth to rattle as her head whipped back and smashed into the wall.

"Ugh! Son of a bitch!" She raised her knee as hard as she could, connecting with his groin and sending him reeling away from her. Lunging for the gun on the floor, she skidded to a knee and grabbed it, angling herself so that she could aim it at him.

He stumbled, eyes drawn down to that knife sticking out of his side. One hand shakily wrapped around the hilt, and just as he began trying to pull the blade out of himself she pulled the trigger and he was stopping, and then falling.

She took a few deep breaths, finally getting to her feet. These men were obviously recent recruits. Most seasoned fighters wouldn't stop in the middle of a struggle to unwittingly aid their own demise. She counted herself lucky at that, striding over and planting a boot on the man's stomach before she leaned down to yank the knife out of him.

When she made her way back downstairs, she turned left to head into the parlor. What she saw there stopped her in her tracks. There stood Clifford Bailey, one hand clamped firmly on the shoulder of a young boy standing in front of him. He had a revolver pointed at the boy's head, and his eyes burned into her with a no-nonsense severity that was very…sobering, to say the least.

"S-Sam…?"

Cliff's eyes darkened. "Well, Wilhelmina. I've been waiting for you to finally show yourself. We had our suspicions the first time this little shit went missing…"

Sam's lip trembled as he stood there, his body stiff from where she could see but she was sure he was probably shaking all over with fear. How the hell had they managed to get their hands on the poor kid again?

Her eyes flicked up to meet Cliff's and she bared her teeth at him. "Let him go."

"Now why would I do that?"

"You ain't gonna kill him. It'd lose you money."

"I might, just to see the look on your face…" He pressed the barrel against the boy's head, chuckling as Sam winced and tried to tilt away from it.

Willa raised her pistol. "I mean it. This is between you, me and Everett."

He angled his head down, leveling a smug look at her over his glasses. "He gave you so many chances to give it up, Mina. Why are you still so _obsessed_ with it?"

Her fingers clenched around the grip of the gun. "He ruined my _fucking_ life! Both of you…ruined my life…"

Clifford sighed, shaking his head a bit. "Your brother was tryin' to _give_ you a life…"

Willa barked out a humorless laugh. "You're so full of shit. Where is he then? Hm? Coming up behind me?" She glanced behind herself as quickly as she could, still keeping the pistol held up.

Clifford laughed at her. "Sorry, sweetie. You missed him again. Though I guess I _could_ keep you alive long enough to speak with him, if that's what you want. I'll tell you what…just get rid of your gun, and anything else you've got on you. And I'll let the kid go. That's fair, isn't it?"

She grimaced, glancing down at Sam once more. He looked back at her with wide eyes. In the low light from the lanterns she could see some glistening spots on his cheeks from the tears he was trying so hard not to cry.

Willa grit her teeth and cast her gaze back up at her brother's lieutenant. "Why should I trust you? In all these years, how do I know killin' an innocent boy ain't somethin' you've come to look forward to?"

He sighed, rolling his eyes. "Speakin' of not being able to trust somebody, where's that friend of yours? Callahan, or whatever his name is? He gonna bust in through the side door any second, tryin' to blow my brains out?"

Willa furrowed her brows. It took her a few moments to sluggishly realize that when Arthur had met Everett at that party, he'd probably given her brother a fake name. The corner of her mouth twitched. "It's just me, Cliff. Ain't seen him in weeks. Pretty sure he's…probably dead. So I ain't got much to lose, do I?"

He sized her up for a few moments. "Guessin' you ain't taken up lying over the last nine years. Alright…" He pushed Sam forward, raising his gun up to aim at Willa, then. "Get outta here, kid. Let's give the lady one last little pointless victory."

Sam stumbled forward, glancing back at his captor briefly before turning his frightened gaze back to Wilhelmina. "M-Miss Willa…?"

She slowly angled her wrist so her pistol was pointing at the ceiling, crouching down and gently laying it on the floor. Her gaze flicked back to Sam. "Get outta here. And don't let these bastards catch you again. Please."

Sam turned so that he was facing Clifford, slowly backing out of the room. He was obviously too scared to turn his back on the man for fear of being shot while he tried to make his escape. He didn't want to leave the kind woman who'd helped him, but he didn't know what else to do.

Willa slowly reached for the knife at her hip, sliding it out of its sheath and placing that on the floor beside her pistol. Her tongue darted out to wet her lips as she heard the front door open and then close a few seconds later.

Cliff nodded, jerking his revolver upwards ever so slightly. "Up on your feet. Away from the gun."

She slowly stood up, holding her hands up at her sides. He took a few casual steps closer to her. Suddenly, a wistful smile turned up the corner of his mouth. "You know we could have a little fun, you and me, before Everett gets back. Like the old days…"

She had been trying to ignore the memories his presence called up in the corners of her mind. He'd been her first. Freshly fifteen, with no real clue about how the world worked and still reeling from her father's death, trying to take care of her sister besides. Loretta had always been the more timid and girlish of the two, holding onto dolls and remnants from childhood long after Wilhelmina had been done with such things.

So Everett had offered Wilhelmina up to his best friend first, to test the waters, see if they could turn a profit off his two otherwise good-for-nothing sisters. And Cliff had been so…unexpectedly timid with her, almost gentlemanly, that she inevitably started reading more into the 'relationship' than she should have.

She'd entertain the idea that Cliff maybe loved her, wanted to help her and Loretta escape their brother's torments. But the more comfortable he became, the more he came to her, the more he demanded; he'd used her as his own practicing ground of sorts, testing the waters with just how far he could make her go, egging her on with vague and dreamy promises of the potential for a better life.

It sickened her now, to think of the trust she'd once put in him. To think of how goddamn naïve she'd been. Christ, no wonder she'd been so terrified of what she felt for Arthur. What a shitty basis for comparison.

"Well? What do you say, Mina? Never wanted to tell your brother, but I have missed you…" Cliff's eyes roamed down to where her shirt still hung half-open.

She noticed this, and took her chance. She reached over to the table beside her, grabbing up the lantern that sat there and hurled it towards him as hard as she could.

His arm went up instinctively to protect himself, and the lantern split apart and rolled across the floor, spilling little trails of fire as it went. Willa used the opportunity to dive to the ground to try and grab one of her weapons, and she winced as the sound of a shot rang out and a bullet whizzed by.

She managed to put her hand on the knife and rolled across the floor, trying to keep moving so that he couldn't easily get another shot at her. He did shoot again, and just barely missed her again; she felt the bullet tearing at the hem of her shirt.

That lantern had come to a stop over beneath a window, and flames were beginning to lick up at the bottom of the curtains that were drawn over it. They caught quickly, illuminating the room in a sudden burst of light.

Willa came to a stop and lifted the knife, swiping it towards his leg. He tried to sidestep away, receiving only a light cut through his pant leg. "Fucking bitch-!"

Cliff swooped down to grab at her and she kicked out a leg, putting the sole of her boot square into his stomach. He let out a strangled cry, stumbling backwards and dropping the gun in his surprise. Willa sucked in a steadying breath and pushed herself up, lunging forward at him with the knife again.

He wheezed out a furious growl and ducked to the side at the last minute, trying to drop to the floor to retrieve his revolver. The room was beginning to fill with smoke, the curtains fully ablaze now as little bits fell to the carpeted floor and began to spread out towards them.

Willa threw out a hand to stop herself as she ran up against the wall, whipping around to dive towards him again. He'd just managed to put his hand on the gun when she collided with him, knocking him down against the floor and bringing the knife back up.

Cliff dropped the gun in favor of reaching up to grab at her wrist, trying to stop her from stabbing him. She let out a frustrated cry, trying to pin his other hand down with her own so that he couldn't push her off. At the last second, she did the only thing she could think of; she smashed her forehead into his face, feeling his glasses shattering underneath the impact.

He let out a real scream this time, his hands dropping away from her to clutch at his eyes. She swayed a little bit, dizzy from the sudden impact of smashing her head into his face and the suddenly distinct lack of breathable air. She couldn't help coughing as she reached out to grab his revolver, scooping it up and planting it shakily against his chest. She flicked the hammer to rotate the chamber and pulled the trigger, the sound deafening at such close range.

She was doing herself no favors trying to suck in deep breaths of the thick, noxious air. She coughed again, sliding off his motionless body and trying to crawl towards her pistol on the other side of the room. Her head was spinning. She clawed her way across the floor, somehow managing to stuff her knife back into its sheath. Her vision was getting blurry and she kept trying to blink away whatever it was that was hindering it. She couldn't feel the little bleeding cuts on her forehead from where she'd smashed Clifford's glasses.

She threw his revolver away somewhere, picking up her pistol as she continued to crawl back into the hallway and toward the front door. She coughed a few more times, wiping her arm across her forehead and smearing the blood there before lifting her hand to the latch and pulling the door open.

Willa almost fell on her face as she lurched out through the doorway, stopping there on the stoop to wheeze in a lungful of fresh air. Eventually she crawled her way down the stairs. There were black dots dancing in her vision. She just had to make it back to Tulip. She tried to focus on making it across the lawn and back to her horse, still not finding the strength to make it back to her feet just yet.

Suddenly, there were footsteps approaching from somewhere in front of her. She heard someone saying something like "oh, _goddamnit_." She saw the shoes stopping in front of her, tried to look up to see who it was. And then, everything went black.


	20. Beaver Hollow - Of Stags and Starlings

Arthur and the others had been back at sea for about four days now. The captain had come round shortly before to let them know they were nearing the coast coming up on Van Horn, and that they'd probably be able to drop the first man off by the end of the next day.

They'd just finished having an interesting discussion about what their plan was coming back. Micah, of course, yet again brought up going back for their money in Blackwater. Thankfully, Dutch had shot that down again; at least he wasn't completely crazy. They would scout things out, try to find the gang, try to regroup somewhere to make their escape.

It all seemed incredibly vague to Arthur, whose mind was just now finally starting to untangle from the relentless knot of high-alert anxiety it had wrapped itself up in over the last three weeks. Back on that first ship they'd made their escape on, The Antenor he thought it was, when he'd been woken up in the middle of the night to find the goddamn thing was sinking, that was the exact moment it had started.

He still didn't know how he'd survived jumping from the side when he saw Dutch and the others lost to the waves on that lifeboat. He didn't remember much from when he'd woken up on that beach, all the skin on his body feeling like it had been beat to shit and burnt to a crisp, besides. Severely dehydrated, starving and sun-poisoned, somehow he'd managed to come upon the others.

Every night he'd spent on that goddamn island had been a night of restless, uneasy sleep and strange dreams. He would often find himself disembodied, an observer over the same area of a wooded glen, always at the same time of day; that special hour before sunset when all the world was sometimes bathed in golden light. It shone down in bright streaks through the trees, casting parallel shadows across the back of a large stag. It would often be making its way to a pool of water, sometimes dipping down to drink, sometimes just turning its head to stare at him, or his presence, or whatever he became when he was in dreams.

It was never unnerving, the stag never had a threatening demeanor; rather, it seemed to be the opposite. In these dreams, things were calm and quiet; serene, even. His attention would always be drawn away from the deer, though, when a flock of birds would come careening through the sky just above the trees. They flew in beautiful formation the likes of which he had never seen before, each individual bird moving in synchronicity with all the others as the whole flock dove and twisted through the air like some sort of single living creature. It was mesmerizing to watch, and sometimes he'd even catch the stag craning its neck up to see them as well.

These dreams felt like an oasis compared to the morass of convoluted imagery that he was subjected to at other times. One moment he'd be waking up next to _her_ , trailing his fingers through the tendrils of her raven hair in the soft pinkish glow of morning; the next moment he'd see her tied up, watching Micah or Everett pressing the white-hot blade of a knife into her skin, watching her scream soundlessly as tears ran down her face; and in the next moment after that, she'd be standing in front of Brandywine Drop, or somewhere that looked like it but also _didn't_ at the same time, and one of those irridescent little blackbirds would swoop down into the open palm of her hand. She'd look down at the bird and then up at him, and then usually, the dream would end. Sometimes he'd see Hosea and Lenny; sometimes he'd see Eliza and Isaac. All those flickering images had started to blend together over the days and weeks they'd been stuck on Guarma, and if that was anything like Tahiti, he wanted no goddamn part of it.

He had no idea what it all meant, but the last few nights since they'd been on the boat, even his good dreams held a tinge of foreboding around them; those dreams with the stag and the flock of birds would start out as they always did, but once that murmuration crossed the sky, there was now one little bird that couldn't quite keep up with the rest. He'd see it falling behind, crossing out of the main body in odd, lilting zigzags before it would start plummeting to the earth below like it just couldn't keep flying. He always woke up before it hit the ground, but something about this new development left him more unnerved than he already was.

 _Dutch_ left him feeling unnerved; the way he'd so effortlessly strangled that little old lady, Gloria, had left an unsettled weight on Arthur's heart. After that little speech Dutch had just given them about being willing to kill to save his family, Arthur supposed he should just let it go, but something about it bothered him. She had asked for more money after guiding them through that cave, though they had none left to give; she had pulled a knife on Dutch, threatened him with it; and it was true, if they had let her live there was a good chance she would have run off to alert Fussar's guards of their presence.

But even _still_ , past all that, what nagged at Arthur was how very…un-Dutch it had been. The man had almost always been able to talk his way out of situations like that, coming up with spur-of-the-moment lies and half-truths to buy more time or cajole someone into thinking they were still friends. He hadn't even tried that. He could have easily disarmed the toothless old woman, and he _did_ , and then he had just…choked the life right out of her. All this right after insinuating that someone in their group was double-crossing them. Arthur had tried to play dumb to coax the plain truth out of him, but all he'd done was hint at how convenient it was that John and Abigail both seemed to have been able to escape the situation with their lives.

Arthur hadn't been allowed much time to think about John, let alone Hosea and Lenny. Now, with nothing but time on this boat until they made port, the grief had begun to creep in. He knew Dutch was feeling it too, probably part of the reason he'd been acting so reckless as of late; but one of Arthur's oldest friends and a father figure to boot, and young, clever, precocious Lenny? He had seen plenty of death, lost members of the group plenty of times before this, but this one _hurt_. It felt like it hurt all the way down in his bones.

Arthur walked away from the group, making his way to the other side of the ship's deck. He leaned his hip against a stack of crates and rummaged in the pocket of his suit pants, producing a crinkled piece of paper that he'd tried to fold and flatten out numerous times, to little result. He carefully unfolded it, smoothing it out as best he could before letting one of his thumbs trail gently over the smudged and waterlogged markings.

It was the sketch that French artist had made of Wilhelmina back in St. Denis. Without his journal or any of his other possessions, this was one of the only things that had somehow made the trip to Guarma in his pocket, somehow survived being thrashed through the sea and beat and tortured and shot at by the goddamn navy. It was so bled out and faded now though, it held barely any resemblance to the actual woman it depicted. But it was all he had.

He'd stared at it long and hard almost every night over the past three weeks, wondering what she'd been doing, worrying that she might think he'd abandoned her. He'd been so fraught with insecurity before this whole stupid disaster, he felt like an absolute fool. It only took almost dying he didn't even know how many times for him to finally start realizing that he did, in fact, have a choice. Hosea's words from a month ago were haunting him, now. _You could. Make plans, I mean. Twenty years is a long time_ _…_

Twenty years _was_ a long time; a long time to be afraid of life outside Dutch and Hosea's sphere of influence. He'd given up Eliza and Isaac and Mary for that intoxicating feeling of being needed by the two of them; his mentors, hell, his _heroes._ How long had it been since Dutch had actually felt like a hero to him? He hadn't even really noticed when that pretty vision had started blurring around the edges, but it was becoming apparent now. Somewhere along the line, the dynamic had changed. He glanced up from the picture in his hands to where Dutch and Micah stood chatting heatedly on the other side of the deck. The dynamic had definitely changed.

* * *

Willa was jarred awake when her body was suddenly flung mercilessly to the ground. She groaned, rolling back and forth across the rocky earth in pain and confusion. She couldn't move her arms. She could hear gunfire echoing out from somewhere nearby. She groaned again as she felt herself being hauled to her feet.

"Think that's the last of 'em, boss. Goddamn nasty sons of bitches, they was. Why the hell did we have to come all the way up here?"

A familiar voice spoke up from behind her, sending a chill down through her spine.

"It's only temporary. Trust me, I ain't particularly fond of havin' to hide out in a cave like some goddamn animal, but we needed to get somewhere the law wouldn't come sniffin' around. Since my _dear_ _…_ _loving_ _…_ _sister_ _…_ had to come and burn down all my best laid plans…"

She cried out as fingers gripped into the hair at the back of her head and pulled, hard.

"We stay here for a few days, then ride out to Annesburg and see what we can turn up. I managed to clear out a few of Bronte's safes after that van der Linde idiot killed him, so money ain't an issue. We'll set ourselves up soon, but we just gotta play it smart for now. Keep our heads down."

Willa's vision was slowly coming into focus. She saw horses, and a few armed men milling back and forth out of her peripheral. The acrid smell of gunpowder accosted her as a chilly breeze blew by. She was suddenly spun around to face Everett, who stood there grimacing at her with a hateful glint in his eye. "Hello again, Mina."

She sneered and spit right in his face, stumbling slightly on wobbly legs. It felt like both limbs were asleep, all pins and needles. The splitting headache wasn't helping much, either.

Everett flinched, pausing for just a moment before reaching up to wipe her saliva from his cheek. His eyes darkened and he reached out, backhanding her forcefully and sending her spinning back to the ground. His voice sounded like it came from far away, even though she knew he was right there above her. "You stupid bitch. You should have just left well enough alone…"

"Boss, what you want us to do with her horse?"

"Kill the goddamn thing for all I care. She ain't gonna be needin' it anymore. Two of you, pick her up and move her inside. You said there's cages in there?"

Panic filled her at hearing those words, as unfocused as they were. She struggled weakly against the ropes that bound her hands, attempting to let out an anguished cry that came out as more of a dry croak. "Don't touch her-!"

A sharp blow to her ribs sent all the air hurtling from her lungs and she wheezed, rolling over and curling up on herself. She distantly felt arms grabbing her and pulling her back up off the ground, her feet dragging as they carried her off.

* * *

The oarsman rowed Arthur up to the dock that jutted off the shore at Van Horn and he climbed up out of the dingy, giving the fella a small wave before turning and making his way up towards the street. He spotted a decent-looking Hungarian Halfbred hitched up in front of a building across the way with no rider in sight, and made for it without much of a second thought.

He had to get to Shady Belle, try to find out what had happened to the rest of the gang. But first, Black Belle's shack was on the way. He needed to find Wilhelmina, explain to her what had happened; why he hadn't come back to her like he'd said he would. He hoped desperately that she was still there. He needed to tell her that what she was afraid of wasn't true.

He'd never even thought about the possibility of having another child after Isaac; that guilt and regret was so deeply buried in him, it was something he'd never even tried to look past. He envied John and Abigail because of what he'd been stupid enough to squander, not because it was something he thought he deserved a second chance at. But he had been drawn to her long before he'd found out that she couldn't have children; it had never once been something he'd considered all those nights they'd spent watching thunderstorms or sitting around the campfire and sharing beers together. He'd never even entertained the idea of having feelings for another woman after Mary, and then she had wandered in and started shooting holes through those carefully crafted barriers he'd put up around himself.

Arthur finally realized what Hosea had been hinting at that night; he trusted Wilhelmina enough to tell her about Eliza and Isaac because he was in love with her. It scared the hell out of him; _she_ scared the hell out of him. But he had to tell her. He had to see her, talk to her, touch her however briefly just to make sure she wouldn't slip away like she always did in his dreams. He told himself, even if it was unrequited, she deserved to know. He hadn't just been using her.

It was the middle of the night when he finally guided the horse to a stop in front of the stilt shack in Bluewater Marsh. Tulip wasn't tethered outside, and it was eerily silent around the property save for the ever-present cacophony of insects and frogs. He gave the Halfbred an appreciative pat and slid down off the saddle, making his way up the narrow wooden boardwalk a little apprehensively.

Arthur paused before reaching the door, clearing his throat once or twice and reaching up to rub his teeth with his finger. He'd been wearing the same clothes for near on a month now and his beard was grown out to an embarrassing length, but he tried to do what he could nonetheless, using his hand to smooth down the unruly thatch growing from his chin. He took a steadying breath, exhaling a heavy sigh before extending his hand to knock on the door.

When he received no response he reached out to turn the handle, peeping his head inside as he swung the door in. "Willa? It's me, Arthur…"

It was dark and silent inside the little shack. He took a few steps inside and startled himself when his foot hit something that went rolling across the floor and made a loud clink wherever it stopped. He squinted, peering down to see that it was a bottle. There were several lying scattered across the floor, all empty by the looks of it.

Arthur furrowed his brow, shaking his head and glancing around the shack once more. That was a troubling sign. There was no indication of a struggle, though, no letters or notes laying around waiting to be read. Hopefully she'd just made her way back to Shady Belle and met up with the gang. With no other leads to go on, he had to hope they'd all be together somewhere. He left the shack, making sure to lock the door behind him before returning to the horse.

* * *

Some time later, Willa woke again. Her head lulled forward and she almost fell face first to the ground, but she managed to push herself back up and straighten up against what felt like…bars. She blinked, her vision finally refocusing again after a minute. Bars ahead and above her, too. She was in a goddamn cage. It was dark, but lanterns set up on various tables and rock outcrops illuminated a whole bunch of men. Some sitting, playing cards or polishing their guns; some standing or ambling around; others eyeing her with fearsome gazes.

She swallowed thickly and let her head drop back against the bars. There was a sharp ache just under one of her breasts where her brother had kicked her. The side of her face felt puffy from where he'd hit her. Her throat was sore and dry, still suffering from inhaling all that smoke. She looked up toward the ceiling, brows furrowing as she tentatively worked her wrists against the ropes that still bound them.

"Good. You're finally awake."

Willa cast her gaze back down to see Everett standing on the other side of the cage door. She narrowed her eyes at her brother, wetting her lips with her tongue. She distantly noted the coppery taste of blood.

"I'm done playing this fucking game with you. Do you hear me?" He unlatched the door of the cage and walked inside, stopping just in front of her. "You just had to keep pushing, and _pushing_. And you _lost_."

"Maybe…but I killed that manipulative, stuck-up piec-"

"You killed _my best friend_!" He lunged forward and grabbed at her, squeezing her jaw aggressively between his thumb and his other fingers, forcing her to look at him.

Her lips pursed out of their own accord, the pain singing through her as his fingers dug into the tender flesh where he'd hit her earlier. "Your best friend…was a fucking bastard…just like _you."_ She retracted one leg only to kick out at him as hard as she could.

Everett caught on a split second before it was too late and angled himself so that she was hitting him in the hip instead of the groin, stumbling back and away from her. He snarled, bringing his own foot up to kick her hard in the side of her hip in retaliation; an angry sibling if there ever was one. She let out a strangled cry, sliding sideways and curling up on herself.

"You're not making this any easier on yourself…" Everett reached into his pocket and produced a small glass bottle. He crouched down beside her, twisting off the rubber stopper to reveal a dropper full of a dirty looking, red-brownish liquid.

Willa's eyes went wide and she squirmed, scraping her spurs into the dirt in an effort to wiggle away from him. "No. No! Just _kill_ me!"

He chuckled, setting the bottle down gently on the dirt floor before clambering over and maneuvering around her flailing legs to sit down heavily on top of them, keeping her pinned to the ground. "Oh no, dear heart. No, no, no." He leaned forward and grabbed her jaw in his free hand again, angling her face towards him.

"I'm gonna soften you up for a day or two. These boys, they're all new you know, and it's been a rough couple of days. They weren't expectin' to have to clear a bunch of inbred hillbilly filth out of a goddamn cave out in the middle of nowhere. They deserve a little somethin' for their trouble. And you deserve to have it slow and goddamn _painful_ for all the bullshit I've had to put up with…" He moved his hand up from her jaw, clamping her nostrils together so that eventually, she'd have to draw a breath through her mouth.

Willa screwed her eyes shut, thrashing underneath him with all the strength she had left. This was her worst nightmares, her worst memories given a fresh breath of life. She held her own breath as long as she could, but he had her right where he wanted her. When she couldn't possibly stand it anymore and had to open her lips just the tiniest bit, that dropper was being jammed in against her teeth and the laudanum was as bitter and acrid on her tongue as she remembered it being all those years ago.

His hand immediately moved from her nose to press over her mouth, keeping her from spitting the powerful tincture out. She felt tears streaming down her eyes and had to shut them again; she couldn't look at the smug grimace on his hateful face any longer. All she could hope for was that he'd given her too much, and maybe she would go to sleep peacefully and never wake up again. Maybe…she would see Arthur again.

She finally opened her eyes when his weight lifted from her, watched him as he scooped up the little glass bottle and dunked the dropper back into it, twisting it shut. Her lip trembled. "What kind of brother are you? You were supposed to look out for us…you were supposed to be the one to protect us from men like you…"

He glanced back at her as he stuck the little bottle back into his pocket. "Well, Mina…I'm sorry you thought that."

* * *

Reuniting with the rest of the gang at Lakay was only a fleeting joy for Arthur. He and Micah were the first two to find them, and were more or less generally informed about what had happened over the last month or so, but he made sure to pull Sadie aside after the hugs were done and he'd eaten a decent meal. He inquired about Wilhelmina, and she'd just folded her arms and cocked an eyebrow at him in that caustically endearing way she had.

"Listen, Arthur. I ain't sure how well she's been dealin' with all of this. With Hosea and Lenny, and not knowin' where the hell you was. Think it might've…messed her up pretty bad. And then she got piss drunk and threatened Molly right outta the goddamn camp last night. Said she needed a break for a few days, and…" Sadie shrugged, seemingly at a loss. "Ain't seen her since…"

He'd only had a brief period of time to mull over where she possibly could have disappeared to before Dutch arrived, and then Bill. And then goddamn Milton and the rest of his Pinkerton militia. It was fairly obvious that Bill had not been subtle about his inquiries as to their whereabouts, and Arthur (and probably a few others) cursed the stupid son of a bitch as bullets started raining down on the weathered old shack they were all huddled up in.

If it hadn't been for Sadie, he was quite sure none of them would have made it out alive. Getting him around the Pinkertons and over to that Gatling gun of theirs had saved their skins, and he made sure she knew it. She was proving an invaluable asset to their group now that her grief had been re-forged into something cold and hardened within her. Not that it was healthy by any means, but it had helped them and for that Arthur was eternally grateful.

After Milton had turned tail and run and the rest of his cronies had been dispatched, Arthur had the chance to speak with Dutch for a few moments about what the hell they were going to do, and the answers he'd received had been…disheartening. Every one of the man's nerves seemed frayed to their ragged ends, and it seemed like he had run out of the formerly endless tricks he had up his sleeves.

Abigail had come outside soon after to plead with Dutch about trying to rescue John from Sisika, and he had only been able to tell her that they would deal with it _eventually_. She had turned to Sadie and Arthur then, begging them to help. Sadie had been ready to ride off immediately to start formulating a plan, but Arthur told her to wait. He needed a few days to try and find Wilhelmina, and most likely find another place for the gang to hide while he was at it. Abigail said there was talk of hanging John, but Arthur had to hope that that boy's stupid good luck would hold out for just a little while longer.

So they'd all tried to get some sleep, though it was restless at best. Folks woke up at any little sound, and Sean had almost blown Bill's head clean off when he and Javier returned much later in the night from hunting down any straggling Pinkerton agents that may have escaped; sadly, they hadn't found Agent Milton among them.

The next morning Arthur managed to get in a quick shave and into a clean pair of clothes before heading out to the back of the shack to approach Dutch about what their next move needed to be. He felt better for being a bit cleaned up and finally having a few decent meals, but that restless worry over their miserable situation was gnawing uneasily at his guts all the same.

Dutch was reclined in an old wooden chair, feet crossed on a crate in front of him as he moved invisible chess pieces in the air, muttering the moves to himself.

Arthur cleared his throat as he came up behind the older man. "You okay, there?"

Dutch paused for a moment, staring straight ahead into the swamp with an unpredictable glint in his eye. "Workin' it all out…once and for all, Arthur…"

Arthur walked around in front of Dutch, since the other man didn't seem to be inclined to turn and face him. He leaned back against the railing of the old deck, settling his hands on his gun belt. "Mm…what now?"

"We're back…and I'm sittin' here, and I'm contemplating the great journey of the sun and considering a famous chess move. Those oily enactors of a mediocre justice the Pinkertons and their benefactor, the depressing millionaire Leviticus Cornwall, they _want us,_ Arthur… _they want us_." He clutched his fists in the air, enunciating through clenched teeth. "And they _are going to have us."_

"Well, maybe they ain't the problem…"

"Meanin'?"

"I don't know, it's just…well, I can't help but feel we would've been better runnin' off someplace else…" Arthur pushed himself away from the railing, taking a few steps to stand beside where Dutch was still seated.

"But the game ain't over, Arthur. I mean I ain't…I ain't played my final move, but…"

"I guess I'm more interested in savin' lives than winnin' at chess…" Arthur raised a hand to wave vaguely in Dutch's direction.

"Then maybe life ain't such a thing to cling onto so tightly!"

"No doubt! But…what about the women?"

Dutch's tone softened as he looked up to the sky, almost like he was searching. "You sound like Hosea. I miss…him…"

Arthur steeled himself against that, raising his hand again to point at him. Dutch had barely even graced him with a glance for the entire conversation so far and it was suddenly getting under his skin. "I asked you a question."

Finally, Dutch looked over and up at him. "What do you think?"

Arthur shook his head. "We can't stay here. That much is obvious. But where we gonna run to? I mean they chased us from the west, they chased us over the mountains, they ran us into the sea!"

Dutch looked away again, reaching up to idly rub at his temple. "Arthur…do you have my back?"

The response was automatic; as easy as taking a breath. "Always, Dutch. But there's more than your back to worry about. We need more money. We been on the run for months now, and I seen you…" Arthur leaned down then, trying to catch Dutch's gaze, pressing more than he ever had before with the man he'd always looked up to as some kind of a father. "Killin' folk in cold blood, like you always told me not to!"

Dutch's brows drew down and he stood up then, making his way over to the railing, still pointedly avoiding Arthur's accusatory gaze as he continued his chiding.

"And I'm sorry but I can't help but think that if we ju-"

"There is country in Roanoke Ridge, past Butcher Creek…I believe we could hold."

Arthur relented slightly, eyeing him. "Okay…"

"And you and Charles, you could take folks up that way. Micah…and I…need to do some reconnaissance. I ain't got a final plan yet. Arthur, I ain't got a…" Dutch glanced back at him then, seeming to be at a loss as his voice lowered and the words just sort of petered out.

Arthur had seen that look far too often as of late, but with Dutch cutting him off every time he attempted to offer a suggestion, he was loathe to start offering up any more. He just stood there, eyes searching the other man for some kind of an answer.

"I just need time…I need time, and _no traitors._ "

Arthur didn't know what to say to that. They both looked at each other for a few moments before he simply gave a shallow nod and walked away from Dutch, along the side of the moldering old cabin towards where Charles sat sharpening a hatchet near the center of the clearing between the outbuildings.

"Charles…will you ride wit' me?"

Charles looked up at hearing Arthur. "Always…" He stood, setting the hatchet down and grabbing a revolver from the crate beside him, flipping the chamber open to check how many rounds it held. "Where we headed?"

"Up past Butcher Creek…"

Charles gave him a seriously apprehensive look as he holstered the revolver. "That's Murfree Brood country…"

"That's…why I'm askin' you to ride wit' me," Arthur replied softly.

Charles let out a weighted breath and immediately pulled the revolver back out of the holster, switching it for the sawed-off shotgun that also sat on the crate. He'd obviously been cleaning and sharpening all his weapons before Arthur walked over. "I understand." He grabbed up that hatchet and slipped it through a loop attached to the other side of his belt. "What are we doin' there?"

"We're lookin' for a place to hole up…even the law won't follow us up there too willingly." Arthur fell into step beside Charles as they made their way toward the horses.

"Yeah…I did some scouting up there while you boys were away."

"And?"

"…You'll see. I know the way. Follow me." Charles made his way over to Taima and pulled himself up into the saddle.

Arthur came up beside Rei, running his hand over her muzzle and giving her a good pat on the neck. He glanced back at Charles as he hooked one foot into a stirrup. "Thank you for gettin' the horses…takin' care of 'em."

Charles gave him a nod as Arthur mounted up and brought Rei into step beside Taima. "We couldn't just leave them in the city. Kieran's the one been taking care of 'em, though." He gave Arthur a bit of purposeful side-eye before continuing. "He's done real well, Arthur. Might be decent if you maybe…mention to the others to lay off him."

"Who, Micah and Bill? Shit, they don't listen to me…"

"Well, maybe you could mention it to Dutch? The man's certainly no O'Driscoll anymore, if he ever really was…"

Arthur huffed out a breath, rolling his eyes. How to tell the man that Dutch seemed to have no interest in listening to him either? "Guess I could try, for what it's worth. Anyway…ain't just the horses. You did good gettin' the others outta there. Keepin' everyone together."

"Everybody was pretty shaken up when we got back to Shady Belle. It was a tough few days, I couldn't have done it without Sadie and Willa."

Arthur's mouth thinned slightly, his brows drawing down as they just happened to be coming up on Black Belle's shack off on their left. Still no Fox Trotter tethered up out front. Where the hell had she run off to? He cleared his throat, glancing over at the other man. "You, uh…got any idea where Miss Thorne ambled off to?"

Charles shook his head. "No. I only just got back from Wapiti yesterday, before you all showed up. She'd taken off the night before. Heard about it, though. Sounds like she laid into Miss O'Shea pretty good. Sadie wasn't too happy about the whole thing. But she left her tent and some other things behind, so we've all pretty much assumed she'd be back any time now. And where did you end up again? Cuba?"

"Well, not exactly. An island off of there called Guarma. Landed ourselves in a heap of trouble."

"Really? A tropical island…isn't that just what Dutch wanted?"

Arthur made a noncommittal sound before responding. "I guess it didn't exactly live up to his ideals. Anyway…I ain't always sure Dutch knows what he wants anymore."

"Perhaps not…but he's always managed to figure things out in the past."

"I know…you're right. I'm just…" He sighed, not quite knowing how to put all he was feeling into words. "It's been…guess I just miss Hosea and his wisdom, ya know?"

"Of course."

They rode up into Roanoke Ridge, passing through territory that Arthur had traversed with Wilhelmina not that long ago. It certainly was a more somber occasion now. Charles told him a bit more about this notorious Murfree Brood on the way, and he was thankful they hadn't encountered the fearsome backwoods folk on their way up to Marko Dragic's lab. They hadn't passed through Butcher Creek either, which was also something of a relief; the folk there were eerily quiet as he and Charles rode through, almost seeming to make a point of avoiding and ignoring the two men. The whole area had an aura of disquiet that Arthur didn't quite like, and he was glad to be free of it as they continued north through the forested hills.

They left the horses at the bottom of a hill and made the rest of the trek on foot, following the rutted dirt track for a short time before veering off the path and into the underbrush to skirt up to the top of the embankment. It was well on into evening now, but they tried to keep as quiet as they could since they didn't have the cover of true night to hide their presence.

The mouth of a cave appeared in their view down below, and Arthur squatted close to the ground to pause and have a look at things. "Okay…let's see what's goin' on."

Charles pulled out a pair of binoculars, scanning the scene below for a minute before handing them over to Arthur. "Horses hitched down there. A good number, too."

"Jesus…" There were a few ghastly wooden totems, or artifacts, or something he wasn't quite sure what scattered around down there, random pieces of bodies and viscera bound and stitched together atop them to create some kind of horrific deterrent to any wayward folk who might wander by. "They must be in the cave…"

Glancing off to the side as he handed the binoculars back to Charles, Arthur happened to notice another odd sight on the hillside off to the left below them. It looked like corpses littering the forest floor, thrown down the side of the embankment and left to stop or roll or slide as they may. Most all of them appeared half-clothed and half-wild, and seemed to fit the description of those Murfrees. "Charles…" He caught the bigger man's attention and pointed toward the slope.

Charles' eyes narrowed. He glanced over at the horses, then back to Arthur as he stashed the binoculars away. "Seems...like someone might've beat us here. Murfrees've been cleaned out. We…still going in?"

Arthur heaved a sigh, rolling his shoulders and getting back to his feet. "I reckon…this is the best chance we got at buyin' us all some time."

"Okay…let's get a little closer." Charles retrieved the bow he had slung over his shoulder and started making his way forward, down the front of the embankment and toward the cave. He put a hand out suddenly though, lifting a finger to his lips as a man appeared out of the darkness at the mouth of the hollow. He looked like a fella out of the city, too; definitely not one of those Murfrees.

Arthur gave Charles a nod and watched on silently as the other man took out the guard with a well-placed arrow. They crept forward, giving those disgusting wooden totems a wide berth as they passed. They spread apart so that each man was on either side of the cave entrance, pressing close to the walls as they made their way inside.

They came upon two more men standing in front of a fire just a bit further in. Charles and Arthur both used their bows to take them out quietly, making their way around a large island of rock that jutted up in the center of the cavern. It was quite dark further in save for the light of a few lanterns hanging from poles erected in the dirt here and there, so that at least made sneaking around easier. The cave was maze-like though, those large rock outcrops forming figure eights and double-backs in some places that the two men were hyper-aware of for the simple fact that it was nearly impossible to see around them.

The cave was littered with all sorts of detritus; abandoned wagons, crates and boxes, various tools, scraps of clothing, _bones._ They managed to take out about ten men just sneaking around silently, delving deeper and deeper into the cavern. Once they reached what seemed to be the bottom, they both stopped in their tracks at the sound of a groggy moan that was distinctly female, accompanied by the lower cadences of a few men chuckling and talking amongst themselves.

"So, we're keepin' that horse of hers?"

"Hell yes, it's a damn Missouri Fox Trotter. I ain't killin' that horse. I'll raise you five cents, buddy. We could fetch a fine price for it…or hell, I'd ride it myself."

Another low chuckle. "Ain't sure Everett would like that. Seems he's pretty dead set on makin' the little whore disappear. I'm sure he don't want the filly around after the fact."

They crept up to the rounded corner of a rock face and craned their necks around to see five men sat around a poker table, and behind that some kind of a crudely constructed wooden cage. Arthur clenched his jaw at the mention of Everett's name. And a Fox Trotter…his stomach lurched.

"Then we'll sell the damn thing when we get to the next town. Sykes, would you get away from her for five goddamn seconds and come play the game? We ain't even supposed to be foolin' around with her yet."

Arthur squinted. He could just make out two figures inside that cage, one hovering ominously above the other that was slumped on the ground in the corner.

"Ain't like Everett's here to tell us no! C'mon fellas. Lemme have a bit of fun…"

Charles eyed Arthur warily, trying to whisper to grab his attention. "Now let's just-"

Arthur ignored him and strode forward from behind the rock, grabbing his revolver and his sawed-off shotgun from their respective holsters. He raised the guns and without a second's hesitation, began blasting off shots at the men sat around the table. The blasts echoed out deafeningly around the narrow chambers of the cave, and Charles had no choice but to follow suit and retrieve his own weapons to give his friend some backup.

A few of the men at the table flew backwards in their chairs, tumbling onto the floor. One man grabbed a mauser pistol off the table and tried to duck behind it, but Charles put a shell through his chest before he could get all the way down. Arthur strode right on past the last two poker players, entrusting them to Charles as he made for the son of a bitch who was in that cage with _her_.

The man, Sykes, had spun around at the sudden sound of gunshots going off, hastily trying to do up the fly of his pants and then second guessing himself to grab for the pistol at his hip. Arthur gave the briefest of glances to the huddled up shape on the floor; dirty, bloody, bruised. Her shirt hung half-open. He saw red and huffed out one of those bull's breaths, not even skipping a beat as Charles let fly with another blast from the shotgun somewhere behind him.

Arthur unloaded every single round he had in that revolver into the repellent bastard, holstering his guns once he was finished to haul the man up and throw him out through the door of the cage like he was nothing more than a rag doll. "Goddamn sick son of a bitch! _Willa_!?" He turned back to her, dropping down onto a knee to try and make sure she was all right.

"Mn…no. No, no…." She glanced up at him with eyes like saucers. Her pupils were so small, practically all he could see was that clear brown he'd so admired; though now that soft and beautiful color was ringed with red, bloodshot vessels and swimming with tears. She brought her shaking hands up to cover her face, digging the dirty heels of her bare feet into the dirt to try and jam herself even further into the corner of the cage. "No…s'a goddamn ghost…Jesus Christ…please, no…just kill me…."

Arthur's mouth gaped open. The way she was slurring, her eyes, that vacant look on her face like she was somehow awake for her own nightmare; they had drugged her with something. He felt so much goddamn rage and heartbreak in that moment, he wanted to kill every single one of those men all over again a thousand times. And then he wanted to find her brother and string him up and flay him alive and let a pack of starving wolves eat him. Slowly.

He swallowed thickly, tentatively reaching out to press a gentle hand to her shoulder. "Ain't…ain't a ghost, darlin'. It's me. It's Arthur. You're safe now, okay? I got you…" He gingerly tried coaxing her hands away from her face, taking them as gently as he could in his own, cradling them as he leaned in close to her. "It's okay. You're okay. I'm here now…"

Her breath caught when he brought her hands away from her eyes, and she resolutely squeezed them shut for a few moments. Her mind was so addled from the laudanum they'd been dosing her with, she didn't know if she was alive or dead, didn't know if he was alive or dead, wasn't even particularly sure he was real either way. Everything for the past day and a half had been a fog of muddled voices, and distant pain and vague, already half-forgotten promises of more agony to come.

Arthur let go of her hands with one of his own to reach up and gently smooth some of her tangled hair out of her face, noting the large bruise that marred her right cheek. Her forehead had been all cut up by something. He grit his teeth and let out a shaky breath, leaning in over her as non-threateningly as he possibly could. "I'm gonna pick you up now, okay? Charles and me, we're here now. We ain't gonna let nothin' else happen to you."

He curled one of his arms around her shoulders, gently tucking the other underneath her knees so he could lift her up, standing in a smooth motion and cradling Wilhelmina close to his chest as he made his way out of the cage and stepped over that Sykes bastard without even a second glance. Charles came up beside him, giving her an apprehensive once-over as they began making their way back towards the entrance.

"Do you want to stay here with her? I can go get the others, bring them back myself."

"No. I need to take her to town. She needs a bed, a bath…can't keep her here in this goddamn dingy pit. She's been stayin' in a shack down in Bluewater Marsh but that's too long of a ride. I gotta take her into Annesburg."

Charles nodded before pausing for a moment, seeing a pile of her things tossed into a corner in the dirt. He leaned down to grab her satchel and her gun belt before jogging to catch back up with Arthur. "What uh…what do you want me to tell Dutch?"

"I don't care. Tell 'im we found a girl and I'm takin' her home. I need a few days, Charles. Need to make sure she's okay." He glanced back down at her, noticing how quiet she'd been. Seemed like she might have fallen unconscious, but he noted the shallow rise and fall of her chest, so she was still breathing. That was good.

Once they exited the mouth of the cave, Arthur gave a loud whistle for Rei. He walked forward toward where Everett's gang horses were hitched, finally finding Tulip tethered up near the back of the line. Thank God they hadn't killed her horse. He asked Charles to untether her for him and the big man obliged, carefully packing Willa's things away in the saddlebags. When Rei trotted up the dirt track to meet them, Charles led Tulip over and tethered the horses together for him.

Before they parted ways, Charles put a hand on Arthur's shoulder briefly. "Are you sure you don't want me to ride with you?"

"No, go get the gang. Get 'em up here, make sure they're safe. Here, take her for a moment while I get situated?" Arther handed the woman over to Charles as gently as he could so that he could mount up on his horse. He leaned down to take her back from Charles a few moments later, getting her settled across his lap as best he could. He kept one arm curled around her shoulders and held the reins in his other hand, giving Charles one final nod before he took off. "Thank you. For your help."

Charles offered a nod in return. "Of course, brother. Take care of her."


	21. Annesburg - Of Stags and Starlings II

Willa woke up again as Arthur guided the horses down the winding hillside track that led into the little mining port of Annesburg. She groaned softly, shifting her weight against him and mumbling. "Mmn…Charles…?"

Arthur angled his head down so he could speak softly to her. "Hey, sweetheart. S'me. I got you. Takin' you somewhere safe, alright?"

Her eyelids fluttered, a vague look of confusion crossing her battered features. Her fingers clutched weakly at the front of his shirt, searching for purchase. She didn't understand why it felt like she was moving but her legs weren't underneath her. "It's…had a…strange dream…" Her brows furrowed. "Tulip…?"

Arthur glanced up to pull on the reins slightly and nudge Llamrei to the left, crossing the train tracks so that they were on the same side as the gunsmith's shop. If he remembered correctly, they were the ones who provided rooms for rent. "She's just fine. She's here, right behind us. You n' her are both okay…"

Willa slowly shook her head. "Am…I dead? S'not okay…wasn't…" She trailed off for a few moments as her open palm pressed against his chest, brows going up in surprise. "It's warm…"

Arthur swallowed thickly, cradling her closer as he guided Rei up to one of the hitching posts in front of the gunsmith. "You're just fine. Ain't dead, not yet. Listen, sweetheart, I need you to try and sit up for me. Can you do that? We're on a horse right now, but if you can, I need you to walk a little bit for me. Okay?"

She glanced around. "M'not…walkin' already?"

He winced slightly and shook his head. "No…c'mon. I'm gonna slide down, okay? Can you sit up?"

She mumbled something incoherent and managed to push herself up off him, leaning her weight forward onto Rei's neck. The mare nickered softly and shook her head once or twice but otherwise remained admirably unphased.

Arthur swung his leg over the horse and slid down onto the ground, managing to keep one hand on her back as he did so. He kept it there for a moment, angling his head so that he could speak to her again as he used his free hand to loop the reins over the hitching post. "I'm gonna leave you here for just a second, okay? I'll be right back. Just keep sittin', you're doin' real fine…"

He let his hand slide away from her, pausing to watch and make sure she was holding her own weight alright. Satisfied, he quickly untied Tulip and tethered her to the post beside Rei. He moved back to Willa, muttering softly to her as he put an arm around her shoulders to help slide her down off the horse.

She stumbled on her feet a few times, but seemed to find her balance as long as she was leaned in under his shoulder. He was fine to keep her that way as he walked her slowly up the stairs and through the door, looking up to greet the shopkeeper as they approached his counter.

"Hello sir, how may I…my God, is everything alright?" The clerk had a rather thick accent; maybe German, Arthur thought distractedly, but he wasn't sure.

Arthur nodded, raising a hand as he brought her up to the counter. "It's fine, sir. We was attacked by bandits on the road a ways out of town. My wife, she got thrown by her horse. We just need a room, if you have any, so I can tend to her…watch for concussion or the like…" He looked down to rummage in his satchel for some money.

"Of course, of course...uh, that will just be a dollar, sir. Can I have a bath run? Or some food made?"

Arthur shook his head, producing a few coins and sliding them across the counter. "Not just yet. May ask for all of it eventually, though. Much obliged."

The clerk nodded as he scooped the coins up. "Just come back and let me know if there is anything you need, sir. Head out the door and the next building over houses the rooms and accommodations. Yours will be the first room on the right. It wasn't...wasn't that Murfree Brood attacked you, was it?"

Arthur frowned, pretending like he was trying to place who the Murfrees were. "Murfree Brood? Well, I ain't sure. They was some nasty fellas, definitely. Might wanna warn folk about strayin' out towards the Kamassa, though, for what it's worth..." He offered the man a nod and gave Willa a little rub on her arm to let her know that they were going to be moving again, guiding her around and back out the door.

The room was small, but it had a large bed and a washstand in the corner. He shut and locked the door behind them and immediately guided her forward to the bed, peeling her gently out from under his arm to sit her down on the mattress.

Her eyes were half-lidded again and she leaned forward, pressing her forehead into the side of his thigh and curling one of her hands up around it in an attempt to hold him there, or keep herself up, he wasn't entirely sure. "Arthur…m'so sorry…"

He winced again, his jaw clenching against a sudden surge of unspent emotion. He bent over and very gently pried her off, taking her by the shoulders and easing her back while he climbed onto the mattress beside her.

He wanted to try and get her cleaned up, check her out to see how badly they had hurt her, but maybe trying to get her to sleep until she sobered up was the only feasible option at the moment. He was exhausted, himself; had barely slept at all the night before in Lakay, didn't even think he'd had a full night's sleep since before that goddamn bank job.

But he had her now; he was with her and she was safe. And the gang had somewhere to go, and Charles was there to bring them. He leaned himself back against the headboard, gently guiding her down beside him so that her head came to rest on the pillow just beside his waist. "It's alright, darlin'. You just get some sleep. I'll be right here wit' ya. Ain't gonna leave you again…"

She didn't respond; she might have been unconscious again already, he wasn't really sure. He let out a heavy sigh, keeping one arm curled around her shoulder as he removed his hat with his free hand and flicked it over onto the trunk that sat on the floor next to the bed. He brought that hand back up a moment later to pinch the bridge of his nose. God, he wished her brother had been there. That goddamn little snake.

He guessed it had been laudanum they'd dosed her with, based on how sleepy and out of sorts she was. He'd seen Swanson on the morphine a time or two, nodding off right in the middle of trying to do something, pupils the size of damn pinpoints just like hers were. He clenched the hand that wasn't holding onto her, torn right in half between the need to be as gentle with her as he'd be with a baby, and the needling desire deep down in his veins to beat and shoot and bend and break whoever had caused her such harm.

He cast his gaze over at the full-length mirror in the corner, reflecting the image of the two of them on the bed. He looked as exhausted as he felt. He'd lost weight in the last few months (especially since they'd been on Guarma), had dark circles under his eyes, felt like he had more lines on his face. He tilted his head back against the headboard and closed his eyes, huffing out another long sigh. "Gettin' too old for all this shit…"

* * *

Willa woke up sweating. It was dark wherever she was, but she was curled up against something warm, and that was somehow reassuring. What was not reassuring, however, was the wave of dizziness that washed over her to accompany the sickly feverish feeling radiating up through her trembling body. She gagged and clambered off the bed. _Where the hell did I come across a bed?_ Stumbling over to the door she could barely make out in the darkness, she fumbled with the knob and found it locked. One hand clapped over her mouth as she jammed the bolt back, swinging the door open and looking both ways down a hallway.

There were doors at either end, but the one to her left was closer. She made for it, praying to what the hell ever was up there that this one led outside. Thankfully it did, and she collapsed to her knees on the edge of the wooden decking, violently puking her guts up into the dirt street of lovely downtown Annesburg.

He was there almost an instant later, one hand on her back keeping her steady, the other gingerly trying to scoop her hair back over her shoulders. "Easy, girl. Easy. You're alright…"

She somehow gasped and coughed at the same time, glancing over at him with those saucer eyes again before her stomach clenched painfully and she was once more heaving up acrid bile down into the dirt below. "Oh _Jesus_ …" She bent forward, bowing her body over the wooden deck and hanging her head over the edge of it drunkenly.

Willa shivered, panting and gagging for a few more minutes before she finally felt her stomach settle down enough that she was _pretty sure_ nothing else would be coming out of it. She had a headache that put any whiskey hangover she'd ever felt to shame, beating relentlessly just behind her eyes. She coughed a few times, reaching up to wipe her mouth off on the sleeve of her shirt before turning towards him and croaking, "A-Arthur…?"

He shushed her, putting his hands on her shoulders and gently pulling her in against his chest. One palm smoothed down to the middle of her back, pressing firm but gentle. "S'alright. You're alright."

She gasped again at the sudden physical reassurance that he was really _real_ and wrapped her arms around him tightly, turning her head so that her ear was pressed into his chest. Her eyes roamed the scenery wildly. There were rows of little houses and shacks just across the street, some illuminated even though it looked to be pretty late into the night. She saw a few people wandering the road a ways down from them, but they looked like drunks stumbling to find their way home. "Where are we…?"

"In Annesburg. You…do you…remember anything, from the last few days?"

She swallowed thickly, trying to sift through the muddled fog in her head. She remembered threatening Molly, and going to sit with Lenny and Hosea. She remembered bits and pieces of her confrontation with Cliff. She clapped her hand back over her mouth when she remembered her brother climbing into that cage with her, kicking her as hard as he could with that ugly little bottle clutched in his fist. "Oh God…"

Arthur wanted very badly to get her back inside where it was safer but she didn't seem inclined to move just yet, so he resigned himself to just keep on holding onto her. "Found you up in a cave in Beaver Hollow…"

"H-How…?"

"Scoutin' out someplace new to hide out. I…we got…" He sighed, not wanting to waste time with long stories yet when she was still so freshly coherent. "Well, it's all a long story, but I found our folk at Lakay, and…soon after that Milton and his goddamn _parasites_ showed up and unloaded on us."

Her eyes went wide again and she pulled back to look up at him. "The others-?"

"Everyone's fine," Arthur replied to allay any fear she had, pausing only briefly in a moment of indecision before lifting one of his hands to cradle the side of her face tenderly. "Everyone's just fine…"

She breathed out a sigh of relief, casting her gaze downward and leaning into his touch. Now that her brain was finally beginning to sort things out, though, that relief quickly shifted into a sudden and powerful regret. He was alive. He was with her. He'd _rescued_ her, somehow. By some insanely divine providence, he had stumbled upon the place where her brother surely would have killed her. How did she deserve that?

"H-How do you keep…showin' up at the places I been kidnapped?"

He erupted in a small breathy laugh, pulling her back in against his chest and nesting his chin against the top of her head. "I don't know, sweetheart. Guess if I got any luck at all, that's where it's all goin'…thank God…"

Willa swallowed a lump in her throat, feeling tears stinging at her eyes. _Sweetheart?_ A door slamming a few buildings down startled them both out of that moment they were in, and she suddenly remembered they were outside by the street, clinging to each other a few short feet away from what were once the pitiful contents of her stomach. "Shit…sorry, I...we should-"

"Yeah…" He cleared his throat and took her hand in his to help her to her feet. "I know it's late, but…you want me to see we if can get you into a bath?"

She nodded gratefully, looking up at him with pupils that were finally returned to their normal size. "That would be amazing. Feel like I got run over by a goddamn train…"

Arthur nodded back and ushered her back in through the open door, but he remained half-inside the doorway, planting one hand against the frame before he turned away. "Wait here just a minute, okay? Gotta go next door and find the fella…"

She curled her arms around herself, leaning back into the wall as he disappeared out into the darkness. She still couldn't stop trembling, though that was a side effect she remembered well enough. If she could be thankful for anything, at least she knew what to expect. She tried to gather herself in the few minutes Arthur was away.

He was back. He was alive, and he had come back. He had saved her life, _again_. Was Everett dead? He had brought her all the way into town instead of returning to help out the gang. He had called her _sweetheart_. All those hypothetical conversations she'd run through in her head were coming back now, filtering through in a slow procession.

He reappeared after another minute, suddenly slowing down before he reached her, awkwardly leaning his shoulder against the wall and crossing his arms. He looked past her and nodded his head in a friendly gesture as a woman came in from the door at the other end of the hallway and entered the washroom to begin drawing the bath. He cleared his throat. "Should only be a few minutes."

Willa nodded, glancing up at him. It was like once he'd let her go, he realized he'd been too close. She was confused. She'd missed him, desperately. She'd almost forgotten how safe it felt when he was so close, when his hands were on her, touching her with such surprising and gentle thoughtfulness. She wanted to cross the distance, bury her face back into his chest, kiss him like her life depended on it. And with how he'd spoken and acted, she'd been thinking it was maybe what he still wanted too, but now she wasn't sure anymore. She needed to talk to him once they were alone again.

Arthur felt like every one of his nerves was on fire for how jumpy he suddenly was. He'd gone back to that shack in Bluewater with the express purpose of admitting his feelings to her, had been just about fearless when she was babbling and near unconscious, but now…now his mind was blank. She seemed to be alright, which was an incredible weight off his heart; but the realization of how easily he could have lost her, and not even _known_ that he'd lost her? If her brother hadn't fled to Beaver Hollow, he probably never would have found her. That knowledge was hitting him hard.

He cleared his throat as the bath girl opening the washroom door broke the awkward silence. She paused to let them know that the tub was full and hot before sauntering off, and he gave Willa a gruff nod as she turned to look at him. "Go on. Go and relax. I'll wait for you in the room…"

She blinked, her brows furrowing. She reached out for him but paused, and second-guessing herself, pulled her hand back sheepishly before she tried to grab for his fingers. "O-Oh. I thought…I mean…"

Arthur's eyes widened slightly. He hadn't even entertained the idea that she might want him to… _did_ she want him to go into the bath with her? A small smile quirked up the corner of his mouth despite his best efforts and he reached out to catch her retreating hand between both of his own, taking a step closer to her. "If that's what you want…I'm there."

She drew in a shaky breath and gave a shallow nod. She didn't like feeling so vulnerable, had almost _finally_ forgotten what it was like to wake up disoriented and reeling from the dreaminess of the opium. "Please…I'd feel better if you stayed with me."

"Wasn't really wantin' to let you outta my sights so soon, anyways…" He angled his head down to give her a crooked little reassuring smile before pressing his fingertips against the middle of her back to start her towards the bath.

Arthur closed and locked the door behind them, turning to rest his back against it while she padded over to the tub, looking down into the steaming basin and letting out a little sigh of anticipation.

Willa started undressing herself slowly and carefully, not bothering to go off behind the folding screen that stood in the corner. She still hurt something fierce. Her hip had been in pain ever since she'd woken up.

Arthur was slightly taken aback that she didn't bother to give him any warning or ask him to turn away, so he found himself clearing his throat and threading his hands together in front of himself a little awkwardly, half-turning and casting his gaze to the ground.

She glanced over as she stepped out of her pants and small-clothes, letting them lie on the floor as she dropped her shirt and stepped over to put one foot in the tub. "It's okay, Arthur…you have seen me before."

With her permission he finally raised his eyes as she was lowering herself down into the tub, just catching sight of the top of a nasty yellow and purple bruise on the side of her hip before it disappeared beneath the thick swath of bubbles. There was another large one on her ribs, and he found himself grimacing. "Jesus…your brother do all of that?"

She winced as she sat down, leaning back against the edge and drawing her knees up. "Just about. What I can remember, anyway…"

Arthur sighed and rested his hands on his hips, ambling over towards the tub. He placed one palm gently on top of her head as he leaned over her to grab up the sponge that sat on the little table just on her other side. He planted himself on the edge of the basin, staring at the sponge in his hand but not finding the wherewithal to do anything with it just yet. He only squeezed it tightly in his fist at the thought of those bruises, and he had to force himself to push the anger away.

"Arthur…I…I can't tell you how sorry I am…"

He furrowed his brows and angled himself so he could look over at her. "Willa-"

"No, just…I mean it, Arthur. I…Christ, I got so much I wanna say, I don't even know where to start. But what I said to you last time we were together, that was a real ugly part of me…it was cruel, and I understand if that was somethin' you can't forgive…I don't blame you. But that ain't the person I wanna be. You said I just needed to...to find somethin' to try for...I've thought about that a lot..." She cast her gaze away from him, opening her mouth like she was going to say something else and then clamping it shut again.

Finally, she went on. "…And you remember, the morning after Jack's party, you said…I was brave?" She let out a gentle scoff and shook her head. "I'm not. I just never had nothin' to lose, before. Now…? I'm terrified. I was terrified of you, and then I was terrified I lost you forever after you disappeared…"

He just sat there, kneading that sponge in his hands and frowning down at her.

"I know that ain't no excuse. But after Lenny and Hosea…" Her breath caught and she lifted a hand up out of the water to wipe her face wearily. "I been so scared for weeks now that you were dead too, Arthur…and I…Christ, I threatened Molly with a _gun_ , just for sayin' out loud the things I was thinkin'. I got so drunk I couldn't _feel_ anything anymore…went all the way down to St. Denis to find Everett, ended up findin' Cliff instead…set that goddamn house on fire, _barely_ made it out of there alive just to get _caught_ …I been so _stupid_ …"

His heart ached. He knew she loved Hosea and Lenny just as he did, couldn't imagine the torment she'd put herself through wondering what the hell had become of him and the others. He'd been through his own kind of torment stuck on that goddamn island, but he knew all too well how being stuck in your own head with a bottle in your hand could be just as dangerous. And he didn't even want to think about what had gone on once they'd gotten her up to Beaver Hollow. "Willa…I got…there's somethin' I need to say to you."

She finally looked back over at him, eyes widening slightly. She wiped her cheeks quickly with the heels of her hands, managing only to leave her face streaked with more water than it had been. He slid off the edge of the tub and went down to one knee beside it so that he could really look at her, still holding that stupid goddamn sponge in one hand that he couldn't seem to let go of. He settled that elbow on his knee and reached over to scoop up one of her hands in his free one, those ocean eyes of his boring into her with a tired kind of intensity.

"That day I left you, I…I'm sorry I did that. I got mad, and I ran away…like I always done. Ran from my father…Eliza 'n Isaac…ran from Mary…all I done was run away from my goddamn problems, 'stead of actin' like a man. You said you was terrified of me, well…well I been terrified of you, too. You, us, _this_ , it scares the _hell_ outta me. 'Cause I…" He paused, casting his gaze down and scrunching his face up in a scowl as he held a brief internal debate. His eyes rose to meet hers again when he finally took a deep breath and continued. "I might be in love wit' you, and I…wasn't exactly expectin' somethin' like that to happen...sure as hell weren't ready for it. And I understand if-"

Willa attempted to inhale a breath that caught in her throat. Tentatively, she reached out with her free hand to cover his, mouth quirking at the corner. He cut himself off as both of her hands enveloped his own. "You uh…you ain't just patronizin' me?"

He gave a brief shake of his head, all stiff and serious. "Wouldn't ever."

She erupted in a little watery laugh, sniffling slightly. "Thinkin' I might…might be in love with you too. You're my knight in shinin' spurs, Arthur..."

Arthur finally felt his nerves letting up. Clouds seemed to be passing away from the sun. Felt like he'd only been breathing with half his lungs 'til now. His features softened, little crow's feet smoothing out as his eyes widened slightly. "Well, that's…" His mouth curved up in a half-smirk and he looked down and puffed out a sheepish little laugh, suddenly unable to express how fine he thought that was.

She squeezed his hand in both of hers, tugging on it just a little. Softly but firmly, she said, "Shut up and get in here with me. 'Fore the water gets cold."

He blinked and looked back up at her, all serious again. Nodding curtly, he offered her the sponge and got to his feet, yanking his suspenders down and starting to work at the buttons of his shirt.

While he was undressing, she reached over to the table beside the tub and grabbed up a bottle of rosemary water. She pulled out the stopper and poured some into her mouth, grimacing slightly but swishing it around to try and get something better happening in there than the acrid taste of bile that still lingered at the back of her throat. She leaned over the side of the tub and spit it onto the floor, figuring she could clean it up with a towel later. She heard him chuckle behind her, and couldn't help a wry little smile turning up her lips.

She looked up as Arthur climbed into the tub, settling himself at the other end of the large basin. He sighed and held up a hand, making a 'gimme' motion to her for the sponge. "Come here. Let's get you cleaned up, darlin'."

She crawled over to him on her knees, settling herself down in front of him and grimacing at the pain in her hip as she handed the sponge over. He took it and dunked it into the water, squeezing out the excess and leaning forward. "Close your eyes…"

Willa furrowed her brows a bit before doing what she was told, hissing when he began dabbing the sponge at all the little scabbed over cuts on her forehead.

"Sorry…just tryin' to get the blood off. Molly smash a damn bottle over your head?"

She huffed out a sardonic little snort. "No. It's from when I was fightin' with Clifford. Couldn't use my hands to hit him, so I…used my face. Broke his glasses, think I might've blinded him…"

Arthur shook his head, tut-tutting her softly as he dunked the sponge again, squeezing it and bringing it back up to dab at her cheeks gently.

She slowly opened her eyes to look straight into the brilliant blue-green of his, crawling closer to him on her knees. He had to retract the hand holding the sponge, leaning his elbow on the edge of the tub as she lifted her hands to cradle either side of his cheeks tenderly. "Thank you, Arthur…for everything. If you and Charles hadn't found me, I…it wouldn't have been quick for me. I know I've gotten myself into some bad situations, but this one…this would've been it."

His jaw clenched and he dropped the sponge into the water, bringing his own hands up to gently clasp at her wrists, thumbs tracing gently over the backs of her hands. They felt so slender, for a moment he had the silly, self-deprecating thought of how easily they could snap under the force of his touch. But he would never. He would sooner die than ever hurt her. "Don't you even give that a second thought, you hear me? I been through too goddamn much to get back to you, and that son of a bitch is gonna have to go through me if he ever so much as tries to _look_ at you again. I'll kill him; and I'll do it _gladly_."

Her brows furrowed again and she dipped her head, suddenly self-conscious of letting him see her cry. She still didn't understand how or why he cared so much, and maybe he didn't understand any of it either. But she internalized that moment, the feeling of his hands covering hers, the scruff of his beard beneath her fingers, the beautiful color of the eyes he no longer always tried to hide from her.

The overwhelming gentleness he'd shown her after they'd parted on such tenuous terms and she'd endured being beaten and drugged, was almost cleansing, in a strange way. Sitting in the bath together, baring themselves quietly and openly to each other, felt cleansing as well. Suddenly she found herself leaning forward to press her lips to his, something she'd only daydreamed about for weeks now.

Arthur huffed out an appreciative little grunt and let his hands fall into the water to circle around her waist, holding her close and kissing her back with a quiet fervor. After a few moments he pulled away and reached over past her to the table to grab that bottle of rosemary water she'd had before. He pressed another quick kiss to her lips before leaning back and making a little twirling motion with his hand, indicating he wanted her to turn around.

She scoffed softly, a pink tinge creeping up on her face. "I can wash my own hair…"

He nodded, pulling the stopper out of the bottle and tossing it off behind him somewhere. "I know. But..." He cleared his throat, glancing away sheepishly for a moment. "I'd like to…? If you'd let me…"

She gave him a rather demure look through her dark lashes and chewed her lip for a moment before turning herself around so that her back was facing him. She bowed forward and dunked her head under the water to wet her hair, raising her hands to slick it back as she sat back up in front of him.

Arthur felt a sudden stirring within him; he'd found that little action to be decidedly provocative, but he simply cleared his throat again and used his free hand to guide her back a bit closer before pouring some of the liquid out over her head. He replaced the bottle on the table and used his fingers to start working the scented mixture into her hair gently.

He wasn't sure what had prompted him to want to wash her hair. He'd never really entertained any illusions of participating in such an intimate act of domesticity; not in a great number of years at least, since he'd first started courting Mary. Felt like he owed it to Willa though, in a way; like he needed to take care of her now, since he hadn't been there to protect her before. He tucked her hair between his hands, gently smoothing it down the back of her neck, then threaded his fingers up underneath it to massage her scalp.

He felt that odd little bubble of pride poking up inside him – hadn't felt that in quite some time, now – at the idea that he could use his hands for more than murder and mayhem. It was an odd feeling, being gentle. He'd had to practice that with Isaac years ago, however brief that may have been, and of course then again when he'd stepped in to help Abigail the year she was left alone. Some may have said his journal was ample evidence that he was capable of it, but he still found himself in denial a good chunk of the time; doubting that he was anything other than a thug and a killer.

"Mm…what happened to you, Arthur…?" She tilted her head back toward him, very near to sinking back against his chest. She couldn't help but marvel at the way he touched her. Every new thing he did was a surprise. She thought she could stay in that tub just about forever.

His mouth thinned out, fingers pausing ever so briefly in their work. He told her about escaping onto the Antenor, and then having to escape the ship when it was sinking; waking up on the beach, being captured, being beaten; meeting Hercule and Baptiste, rescuing Javier from Fussar's men, having to fight off the navy; he told her all of it.

By the time he was done, he'd long finished washing her hair and she'd rinsed it, and the water was starting to cool off. They both stood and climbed out of the tub, Arthur grabbing up some towels from a rack on the wall and returning to hand one of them to her. She was still processing everything he had told her as she toweled off her hair. "I can't believe all that happened to you, Arthur. I…I can't believe you came back…"

Arthur spoke as he wrapped the towel around his waist, taking a few steps closer to her so that he could cup her jaw, running a pruney thumb across her cheek. "'Course we came back. I…I gotta admit, I had my doubts about it, but we couldn't just leave everybody. Couldn't just leave you…bein' on that goddamn island, it…gave me time to think about some things. And I'm thinkin', this is all probably gonna be over soon. We need to get some money, make sure folk are safe as they can be, then we need to scatter…"

Willa's brows furrowed as she looked up at him. Her own towel was already wrapped around her torso and she folded her arms over it, a steely glint shining in her eyes. "My brother's got money somewhere. I heard him talkin' about it; _Bronte's money._ Don't do anymore foolish errands for Dutch, Arthur. Help me, and we'll see how much there actually is, see if we can split it with the gang, and then you can disappear. You change your name, grow your hair out, they ain't gonna be able to find you so easily when you ain't shootin' up towns with the rest of 'em left and right, makin' all that noise…"

Arthur chewed his lip for a moment, looking down at her. He saw the reason in her request, he knew things were never going to be the same again. With Hosea shot down, he thought that might have been the final nail in their coffin. Dutch didn't have that tether to pull him back to the ground anymore; he was let loose, so to speak, to lead them into whatever outrageous, foolhardy thing he thought might gain them their escape.

"We'll see. Let's…not worry too much about that right now…" He let his hand slip away from her so that he could begin dressing himself, choosing to leave his gun belt and his black neckerchief to sling over his arm since they were only going back to the room across the hall.

She followed suit, walking around the tub to mop up that rosemary water she'd used to clean her mouth out.

He cleared his throat. "Mrs. Adler and I…we been tasked with gettin' Marston outta that prison, Sisika. Thinkin' that's the first thing ought to be done before we go makin' any big plans."

Willa's eyes widened at that and she dropped the towel on the floor, raising a hand to rub at her forehead and screw her eyes shut. "Shit, I forgot about John…we found out there was talk of hangin' him and Abigail just about went into hysterics…"

Arthur nodded, falling into step beside her as they made their way to the washroom door. He unbolted and opened it, extending an arm to let her leave first. "Yeah…she asked Dutch about it not too long after the dust cleared night before last. Didn't seem particularly important to him, though. Really startin' to think Micah's been whisperin' in his ear a bit too much as of late…"

Willa walked out into the hallway with Arthur close behind, his fingers returning to the small of her back in one of those brief little shows of affection she'd come to love. "Meanin'?"

He shrugged as they returned to the room he'd rented them, dropping his things onto the trunk next to his hat before taking a seat on the bed and rolling his shoulders. "On a job we was runnin' back at Shady Belle, Micah was…very forthcomin' about the fact he'd been talkin' to Dutch about 'trimmin' the fat' outta the gang. Cuttin' the weak ones loose. Ain't sure if he's turned that into tryin' to convince him we got traitors among us, but it is lookin' more and more likely…"

She shut the door and bolted it behind her before walking over to him, coming to a stop between his legs and curling her hands around the back of his neck, threading fingers up into his damp hair. "I'd believe it, Arthur. After havin' him tell you a thing like that, how could you not? You need to be careful of him. He don't love the rest of 'em like you do…"

He sighed and leaned his head into her abdomen, hands reaching up to press at the small of her back. "I know…whole thing's a goddamn mess."

After a few silent minutes like that, Arthur finally pulled back from her, removing a hand from her back to offer it up for one of hers. "C'mon, darlin'. Let's get some sleep. We'll…figure it all out, soon…"

Willa caught his fingers with her own, taking a knee on the bed and laying down beside him once he'd scooted over. He reached up to cup her cheek again, tracing his thumb lightly as he could over the bruise that was finally starting to fade a sickly yellow as it healed. Suddenly, he blurted out what must have sounded like an odd question. "You ever seen…these flocks of little birds that sorta, I don't know, swoop through the air like they all know exactly what the others're doin'…?"

Her eyes narrowed slightly as she thought about it, curling her free hand up so that his was clasped between both of her own. "I think so. Back in New York. Starlings, they're called. Somebody brought 'em over from across the ocean. They're beautiful…"

"Hm. Starlings…" Arthur liked the name. Thought they must have been what he had seen in his dreams, though he didn't have a clue how he had seen them there when he'd never even seen the creatures in real life.

"Why? You see 'em somewhere? They only brought 'em over a few years ago, I think...wouldn't have thought they'd spread much past the east coast..."

Arthur gave a slight shake of his head. He was not inclined to make himself sound crazy by telling her the truth. "Ah, no...must've read about 'em in a newspaper or somethin'. Not sure why I was even thinkin' about it..."


	22. Annesburg - An Unexpected Guest

When Willa woke up there was a muted gray light shining in through the windows of their little room; no exact way to tell what time it was without looking at a watch. She was on her side, pressed against Arthur's back. She sighed and nuzzled her face into the back of his neck, muscling away her anxiety in favor of trying to enjoy a quiet moment with him now that she was feeling much more like herself. There was still a dull, pounding ache in her head, and she still felt little tremors running through her here and there, but overall it was a great improvement.

When he wasn't recovering from a night of drunken debauchery, Arthur (being a fairly well-seasoned outlaw) was a light sleeper; he felt the movement behind him and his eyes slid open. He felt her hand trailing down his ribs to his hip, fingers curling into one of his belt loops. His mouth curled into a crooked smirk as he muttered, "sure hope you ain't contemplatin' the odds of robbin' or killin' me, Miss Thorne…"

She let out a gentle scoff against his neck, slowly remembering that morning they'd woken up next to each other some ways outside of Valentine those five months ago. " _'Course not_. Just thinkin' about…about how nice it feels, bein' right here like this. I missed you, Arthur. Drove myself damn near crazy over it…"

He rolled over to face her, placing his own hand carefully just above her bruised hip and smoothing it upward, bunching up the hem of her blouse so he could feel her skin. "Missed you too…a lot. And now that I got you again, ain't lettin' you outta my sight."

She gave him a rather incredulous look, shaking her head slightly. "Don't make promises you can't keep. We can't be stuck to each other like glue…I don't even know if I'd be welcome back at camp…"

He furrowed his brows. "'Course you would. We just…just need to tell Dutch you ain't the threat."

"I threw Molly out, Arthur. There's no way he'll forgive me for that…"

He huffed out his own small scoff. "Ya know, I'm thinkin' you did 'em both a favor. Molly was goin' crazy, everybody saw it. And Dutch, well…to him, she was young and beautiful, and looked mighty fine as a trophy on his arm. But that's about it. Think, towards the end, she was…just a nuisance to 'im more than anything…"

A frown crossed Willa's features and she shook her head. "I still feel terrible. I threatened that poor girl with a gun. I wasn't…wasn't ever actually gonna shoot her, but I was just so goddamn _tired_ of hearin' her talk about how you were never comin' back. She don't deserve the way Dutch treats her, but…but she don't deserve what I did to her, either."

Arthur shrugged gently, bringing his hand up so that he could trace his thumb along the line of her chin, fingertips just barely trailing across her neck. "Maybe you saved her. Gettin' her outta camp, away from us, away from _him. S_ he never belonged there…"

She pursed her lips and glanced away from him, shrugging her own shoulders noncommittally in response. "Dutch don't trust me either way, Arthur. And I ain't given him reason to…"

He pressed in close, brushing his lips against hers in a hint of a kiss, muttering softly and effectively silencing her. " _You_ helped save them folks. Abigail 'n Mrs. Adler told me most of what happened…you was there for all of 'em when we couldn't be…"

She exhaled a shaky sigh against his lips; his voice had dropped into that low, gruff mumble that stirred carnal things within her. She angled herself up onto her elbow, using the fingers she'd curled back into one of his belt loops to pull at him insistently as she dipped her head to kiss him for real. She didn't want to think about the seriousness of their situation anymore so soon after waking. "Make love to me, Arthur…"

He blinked and furrowed his brow, his hand shying away from her jawline like he'd suddenly received a mild shock. He shook his head as he replied, "you're _hurt_ , darlin'…"

Willa scoffed softly and moved her hand from the waistband of his pants to plant it on the mattress on the other side of him, rolling herself up onto her knees so that she hovered half-over him. "I ain't made of glass…"

She leaned down and pressed her mouth to his, suddenly needing him badly and not giving a damn about a few sore spots. There were no broken bones, no deep wounds to hinder her, no lingering feeling of filth from any of them taking advantage of her; Arthur had saved her from all of that. He was here. He was with her. He _loved_ her.

He grumbled into her mouth for a few seconds before finally relenting, angling himself so he was on his back leaning up on his elbows. His mouth opened for her readily, taking his time tasting the inside of her lips with his tongue and trying to remember to breathe with his nose so he wouldn't have to break away from her.

Arthur found himself reaching for the buttons on her trousers, and he had to pull back just enough to mutter, "you _sure_ 'bout this? Don't have to-"

She shushed him and chased his lips with another quick kiss and a lick at his upper lip, planting one knee on the other side of his waist and maneuvering so that she was fully above him. She sat up to start undoing the buttons of her blouse and he could do nothing but follow suit. He would give her whatever she damn well wanted.

It became a rather mad dash to see who could unclothe themselves first, nothing at all like the quiet sort of bashful intimacy they'd shared in the bath the night before. She wanted all of him, and as long as she wasn't in too much pain, he was more than willing to oblige.

She stood up on the mattress right above him, sliding her trousers down her legs and stepping out of one side before kicking them right off the edge of the bed with her other foot. Wasting no time, she dropped back to her knees to assist him. Hooking her fingers over his waistband, she slid the worn denim of his ranch pants smoothly all the way down his toned legs, finally yanking them off and tossing them aside.

Arthur sat himself up to catch her hands in his as she crawled back towards him. He pulled her close, kissing her in earnest as one hand dropped to press trembling fingers at her waist, trying not to clutch there _too_ desperately. With everything that had happened, he thought his heart might give out if one tiny gasp that escaped her was because he'd hurt her, however unintentionally. He had to break away after a while to catch his breath, opting to lean his forehead up against hers as he squeezed her hand gently in his own.

Willa reached down between them to wrap her hand around him, trailing her fingers up to the very tip of his twitching length in a long, languid motion that had him exhaling a low groan from beneath her. "Why, I think I am in with love you…you sun-burnt fool…"

He grunted out a low chuckle and cracked a wickedly handsome smirk, crow's feet crinkling at the corners of his eyes. He liked the sound of those words coming from her lips, could barely fathom the idea of being so well and truly _wanted;_ but she did seem to want him, just as much as he wanted her. It was like a puzzle slowly putting itself together, the way they kept finding each other. Sometimes pieces didn't want to fit, but all they seemed to need was a little rearranging; another look from a different perspective.

Releasing her other hand in favor of reaching around and smoothing both palms up her back, he didn't stop until his hands hit her shoulder blades so he could pull her even closer. He began trailing kisses along her jaw and down her neck to her collar, pausing in between each one to mumble a somewhat garbled response. "Thinkin' I love _you..._ and I certainly…will not be goin' to _Tahiti_ …as untamed tropical paradise…don't seem to agree too much wit' my complexion…"

Willa barked out a genuine laugh at that, angling her head and squirming slightly at the way his beard prickled at her skin. It felt good to laugh. The day before, she had been positive she'd never be laughing again. She let her hand roam back down and up the length of him, looking down at him soberly now, but still with a mirthful little sparkle in her eye.

A purr rumbled through his chest as he trailed his lips across her shoulder, tilting his head back to watch his own fingers trace over the mottled bullet scar on her upper arm, the one he'd put there when he'd cauterized it. She suddenly lifted her hand away from him, and he glanced over at the loss of her touch. He paused with his lips parted as he watched her lick the length of her palm, slicking it up before reaching back down to stroke him a few more times.

Arthur sighed out a heavy breath into her shoulder, closing his eyes as his hips twitched up into her caress. A little prideful grin turned up the corners of her mouth and she ran her tongue across her bottom lip. She straightened up and clambered like a cat over his legs so that she was straddling him, inching closer to find just the right angle before sinking down, slowly taking all of him in and groaning quietly into his still sleep-tousled hair.

He hissed in a breath as he sank back against the headboard, his hands returning to find purchase at her waist. He held her with a firmer grip now, though he couldn't help his hips thrusting upwards shallowly of their own accord. He'd missed this too much - that warmth of hers that she'd somehow entrusted to him – thought about it during long nights lying awake and restless on Guarma; worried, regretful, wondering if they'd ever share it again.

She let slip a small moan, curling her hand up around the back of his neck as she began rocking her hips against him, slowly, taking her time enjoying the way they fit together. "…I missed you…I _missed_ you…"

Inhaling a trembling breath, she slowly rose up just enough so that only the tip of him remained, and suddenly she gasped as he was lifting her easily and flipping her over and pushing himself back in with a loud groan; he had to bury his face back into the crook of her neck just to cut himself off.

Her lips parted as he began moving, slow but deep, his hand smoothing gently down her hip to curl around the underside of her thigh and coax her leg up next to his chest, allowing him to get that much closer. He brushed his lips against her neck, breath hot against the skin as he muttered again between kisses. "M'sorry…m'sorry I never came back to you…"

Willa arched up against him, the nails of one hand dragging up through his hair and against his scalp while the other clutched at his ribs, sliding lower a moment later to splay fingers against the small of his back, encouraging him. She distantly noted the way her breath played in the strands of his hair as she nested her chin against the side of his head. "Ain't got nothin' to be sorry for. It's me…should be apologisin' still…unf!" She had to bite her lip as he angled himself up on his other arm so he could speed up the languid pace he'd started out with.

His hand slid up to tighten around her calf and he lifted his head from her collar. "Shh. No more talkin' like that… _Jesus_ …time enough for that later…" His brows furrowed in a show of serious concentration as he continued the smooth roll of his hips, cursing under his breath when a shudder would run up through him and cause him to stutter here and there.

"Don't think…Jesus has nothin' to do with it…"

Arthur let out a small snort, letting his head hang and shaking it back and forth a few times, a few strands of hair falling down over his forehead. "You're right…I always had the devil on my shoulder," he growled, dipping down to press her into the bed, rolling his hips downward and capturing her lips in a needy kiss.

She groaned into his mouth, rolling her eyes toward the ceiling before squeezing them shut and dragging her teeth across his lip. When he leaned back up and released the pressure, she let her fingers trail from the back of his head and down along the line of his jaw before traveling down between them, touching herself the way he had touched her before, since his hands were currently occupied.

Arthur hummed appreciatively, fingers tightening around her calf again. "That's a girl…" He had to close his eyes as a heady wave of pleasure rolled through him, sighing out a low groan and slowing himself down before he let it go too far. He forced his lids back open so that he could look down at her, watch when she started to come apart; watch the worry and pain drain away for at least a little bit.

"Ah…" She arched her back towards him again as he slowed his movements to a crawl, leisurely easing himself back and forth, shivering against her here and there. The sudden change back to such a slow pace was enough to push her to the edge; the pleasure she was giving herself combined with the way she could _feel_ all of him had her teeth clenching, brows drawing down, gasping in shallow breaths. "Oh…I'm…!"

Arthur huffed out a breath through his nose, jaw working as she twitched and shivered beneath him. "Goddamn…you got no idea how beautiful you are…" He couldn't stay away any longer and he rolled his hips back into her roughly, pressing down close again to trail hot kisses up between her breasts, up her collar, finally ending at her mouth.

She moaned against his lips, hand snaking out from between them to thread back up into his hair, curling her fingers into it and pulling firmly. She was trembling again, probably a combination of the rush of her orgasm and the lingering opium hangover, but that was only a distant thought at the back of her mind. She pressed herself into him, gasping at the over-stimulation as he pulled back from her just enough to utter a low groan she thought she could feel rumbling his chest.

His hips became erratic after that; being able to watch and feel her take her own pleasure from him was enough to send him spiraling into feverish release. He pressed into her as deep as he could once more before drawing back and finishing in a few shallow, shuddering, somewhat clumsy thrusts. After a few moments he released the grip he had on her leg, placing that hand back on the mattress to help keep himself up as he took a few slow, steadying breaths. His eyes finally met hers and they stayed like that for a minute, gazing at each other.

Willa loosened her grip from his hair to cradle his cheek with her palm, leaning up to press her lips to his tenderly. He reluctantly moved off of her soon after, rolling onto his side on the mattress and pulling her in close against him. They could clean up later. Right then, he wasn't feeling ambitious enough to do much more than bask in the afterglow.

Willa drew her legs together and rolled over to face him, nesting her head up under his chin as she let her breathing steady out. "You know you're no devil, Arthur…not where it counts, anyway…"

Arthur scoffed and rolled onto his back, looking away over at the window; the sickly gray light filtering in seemed fitting for a place like Annesburg. "Shut your mouth, woman. You got no idea…" He glanced back at her though, just a hint of a wry little smirk on his lips. He didn't want to admit it to himself, but he'd come to crave all the little ways she so easily seemed to romanticize him. Of course he thought he was just being selfish, gloating in praise he certainly didn't deserve, and it often left him with wildly conflicting feelings.

She scooted over and wrapped an arm around his midsection, lifting her chin to rest it on his chest and look up at him. "Well, I think I should have _some_ idea about real devils by now. You can be _devilish_ in all sorts of interesting ways, but…you got a lot more inside of you than just what Dutch has tried to make of you. You're _not_ a bad man, Arthur…"

He sighed and angled his head to the side to look down at her, hooking his arm around to trace his fingertips back and forth lightly across her lower back. "Well I do appreciate you thinkin' that, but…shouldn't we be talkin' about you?"

Her brows drew down. "What about me?"

"Well, like…how're you feelin', for one? Do you wanna…?" Arthur paused to clear his throat, not quite sure how to phrase it; the last thing he wanted to do was sound patronizing while he was in the middle of deflecting her compliments. "I don't know…you wanna…talk about what happened?"

Willa chewed her lip for a moment. "I feel better. I'm…" She sighed, mouth quirking at the corner. "Won't say I ain't cravin' the goddamn stuff again. It…it helps the hangover, I guess. Hair of the dog that bit you, ya know…s'why it's so easy to just keep takin' it and takin' it, 'til _it_ takes over your life…"

She paused for a few moments before her eyes darkened and her voice lowered. "Don't worry though. I'll be just fine…my anger finally got me through it the first time, and it'll get me through this even easier. Everett thought he could teach me some kind of a sadistic lesson for chasin' after him all these years, but thanks to you he didn't get the chance. And I'm more pissed off than ever."

Arthur pressed his free hand over hers. "I get it. I do. But just…you just got to be more careful. You're right. Much as I'd like to, I know I can't be watchin' your back constantly." He let his own sigh escape, knowing she wouldn't like what he was about to say next. "I…got to try and get Dutch's head straightened out. Without Hosea, it's…it's important Micah's ain't the only voice he's hearin'. I got to try and stand by him, at least a little bit longer…"

She let her eyes slide shut, jaw clenching against a snide remark. Dutch was the only father he had left. For whatever that was worth. She knew it was incredibly important to him. She knew he would not abandon his people, and Dutch was _the_ person. The gang wouldn't have each other if not for that man, and whether or not they might have had better lives that way was nothing more than a moot point; certainly not something worth starting an argument over. "I know…"

Arthur squeezed her hand, curling his other arm upwards from her back so that he could brush an errant strand of hair behind her ear. "I…I want you to come back wit' me. More'n anything. But...we both know it'd be safer if you kept your distance. Those Pinkertons are huntin' for us-"

"Of course I am goin' back with you, Arthur. Sadie, Abigail and Jack, the girls…I wanna help keep them safe just as much as you do. They deserve a chance at escaping what Dutch has gotten them into. I don't…don't know how or why _I_ got so lucky as to be the bounty you happened to pick up back in Valentine…but now that we've gotten this far I am gonna fight, tooth and goddamn claw, to keep you. And if that means puttin' up with Dutch so we can look out for each other, then…then so be it."

His jaw worked, but he just nodded. "...Okay then."

She sat herself up, leaning on one arm and looking down at him pointedly. "Don't mistake me, Arthur. I ain't been sure about much for a long time…but I am sure about this: we _do_ deserve a chance. _You_ deserve a chance, just as much as I do, or any of those other folks. This might be a sinkin' ship, but you ain't obligated to go down with it, despite what you seem to think."

He swallowed thickly and sat up himself, turning away from her to swing his legs over the edge of the bed. "I'm a wanted man. I should…" Clearing his throat, he cast his gaze to the ground and shook his head. "I _should_ be goin' down with it…I should take just as much blame as Dutch."

Arthur hunched over and propped his elbows on his thighs, turning his hands slowly and observing all the little scars and callouses as he splayed his fingers. "I've caused so much havoc over the years…spilled so much blood…for what? I…Jesus, ain't this morbid to think, but…I either get wiped out like a goddamn dinosaur, or I…run like a coward, I guess…" He let his hands curl into fists, clenching and unclenching.

Willa sighed, climbing off the bed to grab a hand towel from the washstand so she could clean herself up before plucking her scattered clothes up off the floor. She glanced over her shoulder at him as she pulled her trousers back up over her legs. "Runnin' don't always mean cowardly, Arthur. It's…" She paused in the middle of buttoning up the front of her pants as a sudden realization hit her.

Obviously neither one of them had ever really thought about having a future. They'd both effectively convinced themselves that their respective way of living was going to kill them sooner rather than later. She'd never considered what her wedding day might be like or where she'd spend her twilight years. Arthur had presumably had the opportunity to daydream about it with Mary, but had he ever truly believed it was something he could achieve?

She bent down to grab her brassiere and her blouse in one hand, scooping up Arthur's pants in the other so that she could lay them on the bed. "It's givin' yourself a chance to do somethin' better; to…to try and make up for those things you done. There ain't nobody on this earth who's all good or all bad. You got it in you to balance those scales, I _know_ you do. You've already been workin' at it, even if you don't realize it."

Arthur finally stood up and walked around the bed, scooping up his trousers and pausing to look at her, watching as the blouse went up over her arms to cover up that bruise on her ribs. He pressed in close, sliding his hand in under the fabric to curl it around her back and bring her toward him before she got the chance to start doing up the buttons. Mumbling rather thickly as he pressed his lips to the top of her head, he replied, " _you_ make me wanna do better. Make me feel like I could…maybe live some kind of a decent life, and actually feel like it was somethin' I weren't just pretendin' at. Make me feel like…like we could both start over…"

Willa leaned her forehead against his bare chest, flattening the palm of her hand against the muscle. "We could, Arthur. It ain't outside the realm of possibility. We just gotta try for it, right…?"

He gave a few shallow nods and sighed before backing away from her. What a daunting prospect. It was so easy to talk about, but what would he do when the time came? Would it be that easy to walk away from Dutch? From the life he'd practically always known? He felt a tightness in his chest at the thought and forced himself to focus on simply getting dressed instead. One thing at a time.

She cleared her throat and glanced around the room. "Where are my boots…?"

Arthur puffed his cheeks slightly, looking up at her as he buttoned his pants. "You uh…weren't wearin' 'em when we found you. Your satchel and gun's out with Tulip, but…well, guess we'll have to see if the store across the street's got anything that'll fit you."

She sighed, puffing out her own cheeks in response and planting her hands on her hips.

He picked up his shirt and pulled the sleeves on over his arms, fixing her with a level look. "I'm gonna go order up some breakfast from the fella next door. What size you wear? I'll go over there after and pick you up a new pair."

She glanced up at him, then remembered her shirt was still hanging open and got to work fixing that. "Seven. I…thank you. Can I give you some money? Ain't you always harpin' about not havin' any?"

He snorted as he wrapped his gun belt around his waist. "Think I can afford to get you some new boots, Miss Thorne." He moved past her to grab his hat up off the trunk, fixing it atop his head before grabbing the black neckerchief and slinging it around his neck.

Willa went over to throw the bolt on the door, and they fell into step beside each other as they made their way out of the little lodging house. "I just wanna grab my things. I'd kill somebody for a cigarette…"

Arthur chortled softly, pausing before he turned toward the door of the gunsmith's shop. "What you want to eat, darlin'?"

She had gone immediately towards Tulip, standing at the edge of the wooden deck in front of the gunsmith's and trailing her hand along the underside of the mare's jaw, planting a little kiss on her velvety nose. She glanced back at the question, sliding her hand over to give the horse a few good pats on the neck. "Mm…bacon…eggs…" Her eyes widened slightly. "Coffee."

Arthur chuckled again, nodding his head. "I shall see if they can provide. I'll just be a minute in here, then I'll go across the street. You want new spurs on them boots, too?"

Willa carefully stepped down onto the dirt, making her way over to the saddlebags so that she could retrieve the things Charles had managed to save for her. "'Course." She glanced over at him again as she pulled her gun belt around her waist, checking the pistol there. "Thank you, Arthur."

He nodded again, letting his eyes linger on her for a moment before he pushed open the door and disappeared.

Willa pulled her satchel from the saddlebags and slung it over her head, throwing up the flap to rummage for her tobacco. Surprisingly, it didn't seem like any of those men had taken anything from it. She guessed they'd figured they had all the time in the world to go through their spoils after they were done with her. A grimace crossed her features as she made her way back toward the lodging house.

She rounded the corner of the building and leaned her shoulder up against the wall, getting to work rolling herself a cigarette. She was partway tucked into an alley of sorts; the docks off to her right, a large building that bridged the road towering over another smaller storefront just in front of her. Miners moved purposefully back and forth across the railroad tracks, some carrying bundles or boxes or their pickaxes slung casually over their shoulders.

She heard gulls squawking from over by the water. There was a steamer ship docked over there, heavy crates being hauled onto the deck by men working large pulley systems. She licked the edge of the paper and finished rolling up her cigarette, sticking it between her lips so that she could retrieve a match to light it.

Her attention was brought back to the road when she saw a flash of white in her peripheral; not necessarily unusual but most of the folks here didn't seem to be wearing white, and if they were the color was so dirtied up that it couldn't even truly be called that anymore.

Her jaw dropped, cigarette dangling as she recognized the figures that had caught her attention over by that large red building that bridged the road. Dutch in his white shirt and suit vest, and Micah Bell had just stepped out through the door of the building, and…that was Everett with them.

Willa darted forward to hide herself behind the edge of the building just in front of her, curling her fingers around the corner and peering out towards them. One hand immediately lowered toward the pistol at her hip.

"Miss Willa…?"

She gasped and spun around, drawing the gun and leveling it at whoever had snuck up beside her. "S-Sam!? What the fu-!? _W-What are you doin' here_!?" She hissed at the boy in a low voice, ducking back behind the corner. It took her a few moments of his shocked silence before she realized she was still pointing her gun at the poor kid, and she quickly holstered it.

"I…I followed you."

Willa's eyes widened in confusion. She took a quick glance back behind the building towards the three men before her gaze returned to the boy standing beside her. Still dirty and disheveled as ever, and so skinny. "You followed me all the way from _St. Denis!? Why!?_ "

The boy gulped, threading his fingers together and wringing them nervously. "Those men wanted to hurt you. And you saved me. I…I thought I could…try to save you…"

Her jaw dropped for the second time in five minutes. The cigarette had fallen, forgotten, to the ground some time ago. "But how did you…?"

"They had a wagon. I climbed into it when they weren't lookin'. But there were so many of 'em, and I…I was too scared to go into the cave…and then those men started shootin', and I had to hide, and I…I followed the man who brought you here, 'cause I was scared he was gonna hurt you too…" He looked up at her with watery eyes, and before she knew it he was pressing his face into her stomach and locking his arms around her tightly.

She splayed her fingers, hands hovering above his shoulders, at a total loss for a minute. She glanced around again, wanting to keep Everett in her sights, but the boy's evident emotional reaction to seeing her was doing a good job of keeping her distracted. "Shit…Sam, I…" She sighed and shook her head, finally finding the wherewithal to curl an arm around his small shoulders and give him a few pats on the back. "You're just a kid…you shouldn't have put yourself in danger like that."

"But they were gonna hurt you! I wanted to do somethin', but I…I got scared…"

Her shoulders slumped. What was she going to do with him? Would she have to escort him all the way back to St. Denis? She couldn't waste her time with that, her brother had been _right over there_ and she had missed her opportunity to take him by surprise. She cursed her terrible luck and let her mouth curl into a grimace. Huffing out another sigh, she peeled him away so she could look down at him. "Well, I'm okay. That man that brought me here is my very good friend, and he rescued me. And right now he's busy gettin' us some breakfast. Are you hungry?"

His lips pursed out and he nodded before finally looking up to her. "Y-Yes…"

She glanced back once more but Dutch, Micah and Everett were nowhere to be seen now. She sucked her teeth and made a nasty face before settling one hand on his back to turn him around, expression softening before he could catch a glimpse of it. "Alright, kid. We got a room in this lodgin' house. Come on in and let's get you fed and cleaned up."

Willa guided Sam back to the room Arthur had rented for them, but he wasn't back yet. She found the kid a clean hand towel and pushed him gently towards the washstand, encouraging him to clean himself up a bit after riding in the back of a wagon all the way to Beaver Hollow and then presumably following Arthur on foot all the way into Annesburg. She had to give him credit, though he said he'd been too scared to try and do anything with Everett's men around (which had honestly probably saved his life), he had still wanted to help her enough to follow her across state lines.

She took a seat on the trunk next to the bed and leaned back against the wall, trying to figure out how in the hell they were going to work him into the equation. "Listen, I appreciate you wantin' to help me, I really do…but we gotta get you home, kid…"

He turned away from the mirror to cast some fairly intense puppy dog eyes in her direction, clutching the soggy towel in one fist. "I don't want to go back…"

She rolled her eyes toward the ceiling, but whatever she was about to say died on her lips as the door opened up to reveal Arthur with a large box tucked underneath one of his arms.

"They'll bring the food over whenever it's ready. In the meantime, hope these'll do you-" He stopped, blinking in confusion at the sudden presence of a third person. He cleared his throat and glanced over at Willa as he kicked the door gently shut behind himself. "Ah…didn't realize we was expectin' company for breakfast…?"

Willa gave a nod, dipping her head low before extending an arm to take the box from him. "Sam, this is Mr. Arthur Morgan. Arthur, this is Sam, uh…?"

The boy's mouth quirked as he kneaded the towel in his fingers. "Bellefleur."

"Sam Bellefleur. He's the kid I rescued back in St. Denis. Apparently he…followed me all the way out here to try and return the favor." Willa sat the box on her knees after Arthur handed it to her, gently pulling up the lid to see what kind of footwear he'd picked out for her.

Arthur planted his hands on his hips and gave a low whistle, giving the kid a once-over. "Guess I've got some more work to do if I got competition like that." He ambled over towards Sam, trying very hard not to be too intimidating. "Why'd you go and do somethin' like that, boy? You damn well could've gotten yourself killed…"

The boots inside the box were a beautiful, freshly oiled set of classic black ropers. A fresh set of spurs and a pair of socks sat tucked in beside them and Willa hummed in approval as she prepared to empty the box and don her new garments.

Sam glanced over at Willa before his gaze rose up to meet Arthur's, and he tried to puff his chest out a bit to show the man that he wasn't scared as all get-out. "S-She saved me, Mr. Morgan. Two times. She's…nobody's ever done nothin' like that for me before…"

Arthur huffed out a small chuckle, nodding his head in apparent understanding. "She is quite a lady, ain't she? Well you have my thanks for the attempted rescue, Mr. Bellefleur. But ain't your folks wonderin' where you run off to?"

Sam shook his head. "My ma and pa died. They both got real sick. I...worked with some other kids for Mr. Bronte for a while, but he disappeared, and things got real bad when that Mr. Thorne started movin' in. They were gonna put me on that orphan train again when Miss Willa showed up and saved me."

Arthur sighed and hooked one of his thumbs over his gun belt, casting his gaze back to Willa. This wasn't exactly what they needed right now, and when her eyes rose to meet his he immediately knew she felt the exact same way. His attention was drawn back to the door when a loud knock disturbed the moment of silence they'd fallen into.

Arthur stepped over to open it, greeting the woman who stood there with a large tray in her hands. He gave her a nod of thanks and took the load from her, maneuvering it back in through the door with surprising grace.

Willa stood up to rummage through her satchel and give the woman a few coins for her trouble, offering a nod and a thank you before shutting the door and turning toward where Arthur had set the tray on the bed, for lack of anywhere else better to put it. Arthur took a step back and extended a hand, indicating Sam and Willa should tuck in to the food first.

Her mouth started watering at the smell immediately, but she had a few more pressing concerns just at that moment. "Sam, you go ahead and eat as much of that as you want. Arthur, I think I'd like to have a cigarette first. Mind sharin' one of yours with me?" She looked over at him pointedly.

He blinked, clearing his throat and giving her a nod. "'Course. We'll just be right outside. Dig in, Mr. Bellefleur." He pressed his fingers into the small of her back and followed her out of the room and to the right, toward the door that opened onto the backside of the lodging house.

Arthur rummaged in his satchel to produce a packet of cigarettes, holding it out for her while he fished out some matches. Once they both had one lit, she folded one arm across her chest and fixed him with one of the most venomous glares he thought he'd ever seen. He scoffed, looking down at her incredulously. "What?"

"You mind tellin' me why I just saw Dutch, Micah, and _my brother_ out there on the street talkin' to each other like they was old friends?"

Arthur's mouth thinned out, brows furrowing in sudden consternation. _Shit_. He'd been so caught up in everything else, he'd completely forgotten about the night Dutch had killed Bronte and chosen to let Everett go. She didn't know about that. "Willa, I…m'sorry, I clear forgot wit' everything else that's been goin' on."

"Forgot _what,_ Arthur? I'm plannin' on goin' back to camp with you, and I see three men I dislike _very much_ all canoodlin' with each other? I-" She had to cut herself off, look away, take a drag from her cigarette before she lost her temper.

"After you 'n I split up, we raided Bronte's mansion. Your brother happened to be there. John and I was both ready to put a goddamn bullet in 'im, and one of us _would've_ if Dutch hadn't shown up just in time. Said to keep 'em alive, we was gonna hold 'em for ransom. 'Cept Dutch murdered Bronte, fed his body to a goddamn gator in the swamp, and your brother talked _real_ sweet to him after that…convinced Dutch he owed 'im a favor if he just let 'im go…"

Her shoulders slumped as she took another deep drag from the cigarette, letting the smoke plume from her nostrils. "So Dutch let him go…"

Arthur took his own puff, reaching up to scratch the back of his neck under his hat. "Yeah…"

She turned suddenly and punched the wall of the lodging house as hard as she could, yelping in pain and banging the side of her fist against the wooden clapboard. "Goddamnit, Arthur!"

He turned toward her, quickly snatching up her fist in his free hand and forcing it away from the wall. "I know. If that son of a bitch steps foot back in Beaver Hollow, he's dead. I promise you that. But we can't just loiter 'round here waitin' for him to make another appearance. We gotta get back to camp and talk to Sadie…and I'll try to talk to Dutch about him again. Trust me, the last thing I want is Micah and your brother findin' out they're goddamn kindred spirits wit' each other…"

Willa huffed out a few furious breaths, squeezing her eyes shut before finally looking back up at him and snatching her hand back. She pressed her forehead into his chest and shook her head. "Jesus Christ, Arthur…this really is a goddamn mess. And now we gotta figure out what to do with this kid…I'm sorry. I had no idea he was gonna follow me…"

Arthur tucked his chin over the top of her head, running his free hand up and down her back. "I know, darlin'. I guess we…just take him wit' us for now. Hell, maybe he'll come to his senses when he sees that cave again and he'll wanna scurry on back to the city. Gotta be safer there than on a sinkin' ship…"

She pulled back from him to give a lackluser nod and take another drag from the cigarette, eyes searching the docks ahead of them. She wondered what the likelihood would be that Everett would show up back at Beaver Hollow if he knew Dutch's gang had wiped his out and snatched her away from certain death. He was sure to be pissed off, but he also had nobody now. Cliff was dead, everybody was dead except for anyone of his gang that he might've brought into Annesburg with him. And that would only be two or three men, tops.

She had to wonder if he'd stashed his money somewhere in those caves. He _would_ probably try to go back for the money. She had to make a note to give them a thorough search once they got back. She took one more puff from the cigarette before dropping it and crushing it out under the toe of one of her new boots. "Let's just...go get some food, Arthur. I'm starvin'…"

He grunted in agreement, tossing away his own cigarette and falling into step behind her as she passed back through the lodging house door.


	23. Beaver Hollow - A Question of Faith

Arthur and Willa decided to start back for Beaver Hollow after they finished breakfast, but first she insisted on stopping back by the general store to buy Sam some new clothes. He'd ended up coming out of the back room looking like a miniature version of Arthur with suspenders over a dark collared shirt, but it was a damn sight better than his old, torn up hand-me-downs. She'd also made him pick out an extra small union suit to wear underneath and a jacket to wear on top, as nights at Beaver Hollow were bound to get cold.

Arthur just stood back and watched her fumble with the poor boy. She really didn't know much about kids, but Sam seemed to be fascinated with her for some reason. It was kind of endearing to him, the way she tried to stop herself from cursing so much (and usually failed) and started mother-henning the boy to a point that it began to remind Arthur of someone else he knew.

He chuckled, arms folded over his chest as he leaned his shoulder against the wall. "Jesus…Miss Thorne, you ain't gonna like me for this, but you are startin' to sound an awful lot like old Susan Grimshaw…"

The corner of her mouth twitched as she paused in the middle of trying to lecture Sam about the benefits of always carrying a hat and at least two types of knives. She slowly turned her head to look back at Arthur, eyes narrowing. "Ya know, if I weren't so god- _gosh-darn_ happy to see you still, you'd be walkin' an awful thin line, Mr. Morgan…" She shook her head and planted a hand on her hip, walking toward the counter to pay for the things she'd picked out for the boy.

Sam just glanced back and forth between them, pausing when Arthur chuckled and gave him a smirk and a little wink. "Whatever you do, kid, don't treat ladies like I do when you get older…" He pushed himself forward from the wall, uncrossing his arms in favor of hooking his thumbs over his belt.

"I don't…uh…" Sam's face turned a shade redder and he scratched nervously underneath where one suspender chafed at his shoulder.

Willa rolled her eyes and thanked the clerk, scooping up a belt and a knife she'd also purchased. She turned and handed the items to Sam, holding onto the sheath on the knife when he gingerly reached up to take it from her. "Listen to me. You keep this on you, okay? You never know when you're gonna need it…"

He offered her a stiff nod, brows furrowing as he looked down at the weapon. She released her grip on it and it felt heavy in his hand, reminiscent of the gun he'd had to tote sometimes for Mikey and the others back in the city. He'd never actually had to shoot; it was always more of a trick of intimidation with their precocious leader, but the weight it carried was the same. He slipped the loop on the sheath on over the belt and wrapped it awkwardly around his waist.

Willa looked over, but Arthur was suddenly gone from the store. She put a hand on Sam's shoulder, guiding him towards the open door. As they moved, she bent down close to speak with him conspiratorially. "Don't listen to him. He thinks he's showin' off. You should treat ladies exactly like he does when you get older."

They stepped out and looked around, and Willa saw Arthur coming back towards the store from in front of the rows of shacks off to their right.

"Sorry, I…I think I just saw Mrs. Downes…"

Her brows knitted. "Mrs. Downes…from that ranch back near Valentine?"

He nodded, glancing briefly back over one of his shoulders one last time. "Yeah. She uh…well, it don't seem like things've gotten much easier on her…" Arthur fell into step beside the other two as they crossed the dirt road and the train tracks, making their way back to the horses.

Willa glanced back over her own shoulder in the direction Arthur had approached from, but didn't see anyone she recognized as the poor widow from that ranch. She huffed out a sigh, coming to a stop beside Tulip. "That poor woman…her husband would probably still be alive if it weren't for me..."

Arthur ran a hand down Rei's mane before reaching up to clutch at the saddle horn and hooking his foot into a stirrup to pull himself up. "No way to be sure of that. He seemed awful sick…even then, it was your brother done for 'im, not you…"

"Here, Sam. This is Tulip. She's a bit skittish, so just come over here and let her get to know you for a minute before we sling you up onto her back…" She guided the boy over and encouraged him to put out a hand so Tulip could sniff and lip softly, making her own acquaintances with the boy. She looked back up at Arthur as she ran a hand down the mare's gunmetal-gray mane. "Everett did shoot him, but he wouldn't have done that if I hadn't shown up lookin' for him."

Arthur shrugged as he waited for them, leaning down to idly tighten up one of his saddle straps. "No way to be sure of that either…"

She grumbled and shrugged her own shoulders. She was unable to stop herself from smirking a moment later though, as Sam busted out into a few gawky little chuckles at the velvety touch of the horse's lips on the back of his hand. "Good girl. She likes you. Here, give her this. Then let's get you mounted up…" She rummaged in her satchel for a peppermint, offering it to Sam.

He frowned for a moment, pausing with the little candy in his hand before extending his open palm toward the horse. She nibbled up the little treat greedily before shaking her head and giving a satisfied little snort from her large nostrils. Willa nodded, satisfied, and extended a hand toward the saddle. Sam looked up a little nervously before glancing back at her. "I…I've never ridden a horse before…"

"Well, there's nothin' to be afraid of. You just hop up there and hold on, Tulip 'n I will do all the work. Okay?"

He quirked his mouth and gave a somewhat resolute nod, hooking one hand up over the saddle and lifting his leg to get himself up into a stirrup. Willa moved beside him to give him a boost up under his other foot, then had him scoot backwards so that she could mount up in front of him. "Alright. Just hold on to me."

They finally left Annesburg around noon and headed west up through the hills toward Beaver Hollow. Willa was not entirely pleased to be heading back there, but she tried to keep her mouth shut about it. As much as she hadn't asked to suddenly be stuck looking after a young boy, she also didn't want to make _him_ any more nervous than he probably already was.

When they ascended the track that led down towards the cave mouth about an hour later, Arthur was silently grateful that someone had taken the initiative to discard those grisly totems that had dotted the entrance. Redecorated with the gang's wagons and tents, the place was now a bit less fearsome than it had been when he and Charles had first arrived.

They hitched the horses and Willa gave Sam a hand after she'd dismounted to help him slide down to the ground. He looked around wide-eyed, obviously noting the changes in the exterior himself. Willa looked down at him, crossing her arms. "Will you be alright, stayin' here?"

He blinked and then looked up at her, brows knitting as he stuffed his hands into the pockets of his trousers. "Will you?"

Arthur was about to make his way toward Dutch's tent when he heard that exchange; he'd seen Baylock and The Count hitched up just off to the side, so he knew the other two men had already made it back from Annesburg. He stopped in his tracks, glancing back and forth between them as he rested one of his hands on his belt.

Willa cleared her throat and cast her gaze back around the clearing and the people milling about, finally catching Arthur looking over at her. She held his gaze almost defensively as she replied. "Of course."

Sam just nodded. "Then…I will be, too."

They all looked up as footsteps approached. Abigail was making her way over, a large shawl clutched tightly around her shoulders. It was windy up there in the hills, though the days were still warm. It was almost the middle of September though, and it wouldn't stay warm much longer. "Arthur, Willa!"

Arthur walked over to meet her, placing a warm hand on her shoulder in greeting and also using it to redirect her towards Wilhelmina and Sam. "Hey there, Abigail. Why don't you two talk? I've got to speak wit' Dutch…"

Abigail opened her mouth to say something to him, but he'd already started walking off towards where Dutch's tent was set up in front of the mouth of the cave. Her brows drew down and she huffed out an exasperated sigh before turning back to Willa and closing the distance between them. "Willa, I am glad you're back but I got to ask…who…" She stopped herself, trailing off as she locked eyes with Sam. "Who's this?"

"Abigail, Sam Bellefleur. Sam, Miss Abigail Roberts. It's kind of a long story, but…he ain't got anywhere else to go, so I guess he's gonna be stayin' here for a while. And Abigail, listen, I heard Sadie wants to go try and rescue John-"

Abigail nodded briefly to the boy and then brought her attention back to Willa. "Yes. She got tired of waitin' on Arthur, so she took off down to St. Denis earlier this mornin'. Said she had an idea, had to go look into some things. If…if the two of you could go and meet her, I'd…it'd mean so much to the boy…"

Wilhelmina gave Abigail a pointed look, knowing full well the younger woman wasn't only fretting for Jack, but she just sighed and nodded. "Of course we'll go. Look, Arthur and I've been talkin', and…if we can figure a way to get John out of that penitentiary, he's thinkin'…" She took a step closer to Abigail, lowering her voice slightly. "He's thinkin' it might be high time for folk to start considering splittin' off from this gang."

Sam had been standing by, fiddling with the handle of the knife at his hip while the two women talked to each other. He suddenly caught sight of another boy moving off behind one of the tents, though, and his interest was piqued. He glanced up at the women for a moment, but their attentions were focused solely on each other, so he took it upon himself to try and see if he could make a friend. He wandered off in the direction he'd seen Jack, towards the center of the camp.

Abigail worked the fabric of the shawl between her fingers anxiously. "Oh trust me, that's all I been dreamin' about for years, Willa. Thing is, John never cared much before. And I couldn't do it by myself. Hosea was always tryin' to put that bug in our ears though, after Jack came along…think he knew what was gonna happen a long time before any of the rest of us realized it, but…"

Willa frowned and reached out to put a hand on Abigail's shoulder. "We're gonna get out of this. I promise."

"How you get on?" Dutch inquired to Arthur as he saw the younger man approaching, leaned up against one of the sturdy poles that propped up his rather extravagant tent and tapping a cigar to ash it carefully just to the side of his boots.

"Okay. Listen Dutch, we found Miss Thorne here. Her brother must've left St. Denis, and he caught her…and he was gonna kill her. Now I don't know if you got any expectations for this favor he said he owed you, but I am just about certain that fella's got nothin' none of us is wantin'. Wilhelmina was in Lakay lookin' after our folk while we was gone, we _owe_ it to her to put that bastard down if he shows back up here…"

Dutch simply arched an eyebrow, taking a puff from the cigar and remaining enigmatically silent.

Arthur came to a stop, settling his hands on his hips. When he received no response, he faltered. He'd expected…something. "So…yeah. You and Micah, uh, find anything?"

"Maybe…I think maybe, I found our old friend Mr. Cornwall."

"You did?"

"Yeah, he's buyin' a stake in the mine in Annesburg."

"Relentlessly ambitious fella, isn't he…?"

"Micah 'n I'll sniff about, see if he knows we're here, and what exactly his plans are…"

Arthur's mouth twitched. There was no mention or acknowledgement at all of them meeting up with Everett during their foray into Annesburg, no apparent concern over Wilhelmina's safety; just an aloofness that Arthur found highly unsettling. Why didn't he just say something one way or the other?

Before Arthur could ask, both of them suddenly looked over at the sound of Micah's harsh yell emanating from the center of camp. "Hey! Who the hell is this little runt!?"

Micah was dragging Sam away by the collar of his shirt from Jack, who sat cowering outside his father's tent. The poor boy was clutching at Cain, petting him absentmindedly. He winced in fear as Micah drew one of his revolvers on Sam.

"Hey! You let go of him!" Willa blew past Abigail, stalking towards Micah and reaching for her own gun. Abigail, in turn, marched right after her and continued past to grab her son and get him up out of harm's way, ushering him off toward the scout fire.

Micah glared up at Willa from under the brim of his hat as she stopped in front of him, fingers twitching at the grip of her pistol. She didn't want to draw it just yet though, rather scared that Micah wasn't just bluffing with his. "He's with me. He ain't hurtin' nothin'. Let him be."

Micah sneered, a few breathy chuckles escaping him as he held the trembling boy in a tight grip. "Ah, Morgan's little whore. Still with nothin' to share for the rest of us, I can only assume, if you're already so goddamn eager to strap the poor bastard down with a scrawny little brat like this. That your idea of makin' an honest man outta him, little birdie? Startin' a little bastard family all of your own?"

Willa clenched her fist. "Oh, I got somethin' I'll share with you, Micah. You let the boy loose and step on over here; I'll put the barrel of this gun in your nasty mouth and blow your goddamn brains out…"

Arthur stepped in between them then, cutting a hand through the air. "That's just about enough outta both of you!" He took a step toward Micah and put his hand on the grip of his own revolver. "You wanna try drawin' against me, you goddamn snake? Let him loose or I swear, you'll be wishin' I'd left you to hang back in Strawberry!"

Micah suddenly broke out into an easy grin, huffing out a loud scoff as he released his grip on Sam's collar and pushed him forward towards Arthur. He put his free hand up into the air as he holstered his revolver, taking a step back in a fraudulent show of deference. "Hey cowpoke, you wanna take responsibility for some brat ain't even yours, that's your funeral." Micah's gaze slid behind Arthur, centering on Dutch briefly. "But I would like to add that one more mouth to feed…a mouth that can't even do no real work, besides…ain't exactly what we need right now."

Arthur's words dripped with derision, his tone lowering into an even monotone. "And what do _you_ suggest, Micah? Just send 'im on his way? He'd be caught by those goddamn Murfrees 'fore he even made it to Butcher Creek…"

"You wanna do what's right, you toss both of 'em. This gang's got no obligation to them! _All_ the fat should'a been trimmed a long time ago, Morgan!"

Arthur took a step towards him, using one hand to push Sam back towards where Wilhelmina was still standing, glaring daggers at Micah. "Miss Thorne is wit' me, and he ain't hurtin' nothin'. Kid's got nowhere else to go. He'll be my responsibility, sure, and anyone else's in this camp that's got a real goddamn heart beatin' inside of their chest. Unlike you."

Micah scoffed, waving a hand towards him with a disinterested air. "Yeah well, as _romantic_ as that all is…the second either of 'em starts interfering with _my_ ability to survive, they'll wish all I'd done was send 'em on their way all _nice and peaceful_. You hearin' me, _cowpoke_?"

Suddenly Dutch pushed past Arthur, muscling his way into the little circle. "That is enough! I have had it with the two of you! Micah, this gang has never turned our backs on folk that was in need! Now we may be…in a bit of a situation now. But she…she _did_ help Mrs. Adler when we was havin' our little foray in the Caribbean." He used the hand holding the cigar to point at Micah. "You…" He turned, pointing now at Wilhelmina, "and you. _Keep your goddamn heads on straight_."

He centered his gaze on her, slowly bringing the cigar up to his lips, but it sounded like he was speaking to everyone at that point. "And from now on, if Miss Thorne wants to keep company with us and stay under _my_ protection, she's going to do as she's told. The boy's old enough to do chores, and she'll ride out, _do as I say, when_ I say it needs doin'…and show me some _goddamn respect_ …and we won't have any problems."

Arthur extended a hand, splaying his fingers in frustration. "Jesus, Dutch, she _just-"_

"Fine." Willa took a few steps forward from where she'd been, leaving Sam behind to clutch at the handle of his knife nervously. She steeled herself under Dutch's gaze, meeting his glower with one of her own as she came to stand beside Arthur. "Whatever you say, Dutch. All I wanna do is help get these people out of this mess."

She lifted a hand to point a finger over at Micah as she continued. "But you keep your goddamn _mongrel_ on a leash. And if my brother shows up here, lookin' to make some kind of a deal with you…I _will_ shoot him. Ain't nothin' he can offer you except a knife in your goddamn back. I _did_ hear about what happened with old Angelo Bronte…he'll do the same to you, if you give him the opportunity."

Micah snarled at her and Dutch swatted the man away, narrowing his eyes and looking back at her with a calculating glare. "And _I_ heard about what happened with _you_. Molly O'Shea weren't yours to do with as you pleased, Miss Thorne. Let's just hope the Murfrees didn't get _her_ before she even made it to Butcher Creek!" Dutch flicked his gaze to Arthur meaningfully before settling on Wilhelmina again.

"She was goin' out of her goddamn mind."

"And you were _out of line!_ You don't get no passes for bein' a hot-tempered, stupid little sot! You don't want that brother of yours catchin' you again, maybe you should've _left well enough alone!"_ Dutch's voice cracked as it got louder, and he had to exhale a heavy breath as he clenched his fists and turned away.

He was silent for a few minutes, bowing his head as he reclaimed most of his composure. "I will not tolerate sloppiness, Miss Thorne, not…not now. This is a critical time. If you insist on goin' around, getting drunk all day and _distracting_ my best men…" He glanced back at her with an impressive side-eye. "Whatever little game you're playin' will be all over. I'll see to that."

She was about to open her mouth to say something else, but Arthur just turned and grabbed her by her bicep, pulling her away. "C'mon, now. It ain't worth it…" He glanced back over his shoulder before lowering his voice. "Just let me speak wit' him again. What'd Abigail say?"

She pulled her arm from his grip when they were just out of earshot, planting her hands on her hips and huffing. "Sadie rode to St. Denis this mornin', sayin' she might have a plan. Abigail asked if we'd follow…"

Arthur nodded, returning his hand to her shoulder to offer something of a reassuring squeeze. "Good. Then we'll ride out this afternoon. Give things here a chance to settle."

"What about Sam?"

Arthur shrugged, glancing over at the boy. He'd made his way over towards the horses, away from all the people. "Go see if he's okay. Ask him if he's ready to go back, I guess? This ain't no place for him, not wit' Micah chompin' at the bit to stir up trouble like he is."

Willa's brow furrowed, but all she could do was nod. She looked up at him for what felt like a prolonged moment, searching for something; she didn't even know what. He hadn't exactly defended her from Dutch's onslaught, but he hadn't dismissed her either. He'd said she was with him. Were they to be open about their feelings for each other now? Was he going to tell Dutch to lay off, because she was with him now? Dutch hadn't told her to leave, but he _had_ demanded her obedience. Was that something she would be willing to give him in exchange for being able to stay close to Arthur and try to help his people?

There were far too many thoughts running rampant in her head at that moment, but Arthur was right; she needed to go make sure the kid was okay. She'd been responsible for bringing him along; Sam was her obligation, not his. Even if Arthur said he'd take that on as well, she knew he was feeling the pressure of their situation even more intensely than she was. He was taking a weight of the blame and saddling it on his own shoulders, and she knew how very much he did _not_ want to be the person creating dissension in the ranks. But there he was, stepping in to finish her fight with Micah and now Dutch as well. She heaved out a sigh and pressed her palm over the back of the hand he had on her shoulder, squeezing it briefly before turning to go check on Sam.

Arthur watched her walking away for a moment before turning back toward Dutch and Micah. Dutch had turned to walk back to his tent, but Micah remained right where he had been, looking Arthur right in the eye before turning his head to hawk some spit out onto the ground.

Arthur stalked over, fists clenching at his sides. He raised one hand to point a finger at Micah's face, earning himself a greasy scowl from the blonde man. "You best keep your bullshit to yourself, you hearin' me? Ain't gonna be no 'trimmin' the fat off this gang.' Folk'll leave if they want, sure enough, but 'til then _we_ got a duty to look after them and see that they're safe! This ain't just about your goddamn survival!"

"Well it certainly is to me, Morgan. Hell, you obviously got what you came here for and skedaddled straight off to bed with it, I suppose, while the rest of us was busy puttin' in some real work! That pussy must be real good to make you lose your head like this…she's that strong but sullied type, just like Abigail, ain't she?" Micah sneered at him from under the brim of his hat.

Arthur pushed in closer, squaring his shoulders in a well-practiced act of intimidation and huffing out a bull's breath. "You don't speak another goddamn word about her. Don't speak _to_ her. Don't even look at her. You may think you got Dutch fooled, but not me. I know you're a goddamn snake, and so does she…"

Micah erupted in a few guttural little chuckles, tilting his head and giving Arthur's chest a brusque little push with the tips of his fingers; just enough pressure behind it to try and get a rise out of the other man, egging him on. "Think you're such a tough boy. Well I know better, Morgan. And so does Dutch. Big shadow, tiny tree…" Micah began backing away, lowering his hands and spreading them at his sides before turning his back on Arthur.

Arthur clenched his fists again, biting his tongue against his desire to prolong the argument. He wanted to strangle that greasy bastard with his bare hands, but he knew this was not the time or the place; in front of the whole camp was not an ideal location for two of its strongest outriders to start brawling with each other. He made a beeline for Dutch's tent again instead, rapping his knuckles harshly against one of the poles to be let in.

He heard Dutch sigh from inside before replying, "what is it, son?"

Arthur pushed aside the flap Dutch had drawn down, slipping inside the tent. The older man had taken a seat on his cot, and he looked up at Arthur with a weary expression. "Don't you think you was bein' a little hard on her, Dutch!? Especially considerin' the endless stream of goddamn filth that comes outta Micah's mouth every time he opens it!?"

Dutch slowly reached up to pinch the bridge of his nose, squeezing his eyes shut and making a pained face. "No Arthur, I do not think I'm being _a little hard on her_. Have I not shown her infinite patience already!? I told her she could stay; I told her the _boy_ could stay. I don't know what you think you're doin' with her, son, but this ain't a thing you get to choose sides on. She stays, she follows the rules. _My_ rules."

"She's had a _real_ rough time the last couple days-"

"And she is a victim of her own _astounding stupidity!_ And Micah may be unpleasant to listen to, but he is also thinkin' like a goddamn survivor, Arthur! Now, we _ain't_ cuttin' folk loose. But I need you to stand by me. I need _everyone_ to stand by me, and have…a little faith." Dutch sighed again, planting his hands on his knees and levering himself up off the bed. He gave Arthur a pointed look. "Do you still have my back, Arthur? Or is she turnin' you against me…?"

Arthur blinked. "Ain't turnin' against you, Dutch. Look, she's got demons just like every single one of us! But I…" He paused, unsure of how to proceed. Camp seemed so different now, with Hosea gone; he felt like he was trying to walk on eggshells between everyone's fear of the Pinkertons and Dutch's sudden reliance on Micah, of all people. A sudden, uneasy stab of jealousy prickled at him, then. "I care about her, Dutch. She's a good woman. But if…if you want somebody else ridin' wit' you instead of Micah…"

Dutch simply shook his head, casting his gaze down and placing his hands at his hips, over his gun belt. "No, I've already made the plan with Micah. I will let you know when I need you, Arthur…"

Arthur cleared his throat, finding himself looking at Dutch and searching for something; some sign that he hadn't just been willing to abandon going off to St. Denis to meet up with Sadie for nothing. But he didn't see it. He wasn't sure what he saw. "Alright…then we'll, uh…speak later, I guess."

Dutch simply nodded and moved past him, going toward the small shelf that held his collection of books. Arthur found himself faltering in front of his mentor, yet again. He felt like he was a teenager again, uncoordinated and unsure of himself. Unsure of his place. He briefly cast his gaze back at Dutch once more before pushing the canvas aside and exiting the tent.

Arthur kept his head tilted down as he crossed the clearing in front of the cave, sidestepping the campfire and avoiding other folk's gazes. He just wanted to get Wilhelmina and get the hell out of there. He'd made a fool of himself for thinking he could push his way back into Dutch's good graces. But was he even out of Dutch's good graces? He didn't even know anymore. If he wasn't a fool for that, he was certainly a fool for spontaneously trying to write off his mission with Sadie and Willa. He mentally kicked himself, grimacing and shaking his head at no one in particular.

"Arthur!"

He stopped in his tracks, turning around to face her. Willa was standing with Sam and Kieran off to the side of the girls' wagon. He'd been so deep in his head, he'd walked right by them without even noticing. "Sorry…the two of you ready to go?"

Willa walked forward, crossing her arms and lowering her voice. "Sam still don't wanna go…" She shrugged in a helpless sort of way, looking up at him with a gaze about as full of doubt as he was. "Kieran said he'll keep an eye on him, set him up helpin' to take care of the horses, and Abigail said her and the girls can watch him too. Keep him safe from _Micah_ …" She bared her teeth and glanced back behind them towards the rest of the camp. "I…should I just tell him he has to go back, Arthur?"

He sighed and shook his head, shrugging his own shoulders. "I got no idea. I guess not. If he's seen what it's like here and he still thinks it's better than St. Denis, well…shit, I don't know, guess I can't blame 'im. Things ain't exactly good, but…they could always be worse. As long as other folks is willin' to watch out for 'im…"

She nodded and turned back towards Kieran and the boy. "Alright, Sam. We'll be back in a day or two. Remember, you keep that knife on you."

Arthur locked his eyes with Kieran's good one and tipped his hat toward the man. "Thanks, O'Dr…er, Kieran." He cleared his throat, remembering Charles' words about how the man had done well since Willa had saved him from Colm's wrath. "Thank you. And Sam, you can sleep in my bed til we get back, okay? One of the girls'll show you which one."

"B-Be safe, Mr. Morgan. Both of you." Kieran nodded at them.

Sam looked lost and tired, but Willa had managed to calm him down in the time Arthur had been tying up those loose ends with Dutch and Micah. She'd tried to convince him that staying at Beaver Hollow was ultimately as unsafe as roaming the streets of St. Denis, but he remained staunchly unconvinced. As long as he _could_ stay, he would. He gave the both of them his own firm nod, hands bunched up into the pockets of his trousers against a harsh gust of wind that came up from the valley behind him. "Thank you, Mr. Morgan…"

They mounted up and headed off down the dirt track the way they'd come in, soon lost to the sight of the camp as they crested over the hill. It was silent between them for a long while before Arthur finally spoke up after they'd passed to the south of Butcher Creek, his guilt eating away at him. "I'm…m'sorry I didn't knock Micah's teeth out of his damn skull for what he said to you…" He paused to glance over at her from under the brim of his hat.

She was slow in responding, but finally she looked over at him. "I can defend myself, Arthur. I was…just worried about the kid."

"I know you can, but I should'a done more…" He tightened his fists around the reins, casting his gaze ahead of them again and tilting his head down lower. "It's just…things're different now and I ain't…ain't sure what to make of any of it, I guess. Dutch and Micah ridin' off together, makin' plans, your brother, us plannin' to break Marston out of a goddamn penitentiary, you 'n me, that kid…all of it…"

Willa swallowed a lump that had formed in her throat, nodding and looking down at Tulip's withers. "I know…I'm sorry, Arthur. What Dutch said, it weren't…weren't exactly wrong."

He shook his head, knitting his brows and scowling. "It's not… _you_ ain't got nothin' to be sorry about. And Dutch has been makin' just as many idiotic decisions as you or _any_ of us. I just…it's hard to…ain't never thought how I'd defend a woman I cared for in front of the man that raised me. Mary never stuck around long enough, found it all _quite distasteful_ , if I recall correctly. I just…" He shook his head then, and heaved out a plaintive sigh. "Wish Hosea was here…"

"If Hosea was here, he'd be tellin' us to get out, Arthur. He'd have asked why the hell we even went back to Beaver Hollow in the first place…"

His jaw worked, but he was silent for a long time after that. Eventually, his voice cut through the sound of afternoon birdsong and the rushing of the Kamassa off to their right. "You can, if you want…"

She sighed and hung her head again. "I don't want to leave without you. You told me you wanted me to stay, I told Dutch I'd do whatever horseshit he wants me to do, I'll even put up with _Micah_ if it means …that I can be near you…"

He winced at how her voice started trembling at the end there. "Just want you to be safe, sweetheart-"

"The only time I feel safe is with _you_." She looked back over at him then, a serious frown etched upon her face. "I know that's probably goddamn ridiculous, but I…I don't know…that's it, that's how I feel…"

He cleared his throat. "Then I…I promise I'll do everything I can to protect you. It ain't over yet. I'm sorry I dragged you into all of this, but we'll figure it out. Together."

"Stop apologizing, Arthur. I know you feel like you're…stuck, between me 'n Dutch. But I'll try. I will try for you. And I will try to stay away from the goddamn liquor, and I will try to keep my head straight. I don't…don't want to just be a _distraction_ …"

"That ain't what you are…"

They were silent for another long while, easing the horses on into a canter to make up some time. Eventually the hills began to flatten out into wetlands and they knew they were approaching the boundaries of Lemoyne. "You wanna stay in Bluewater tonight? Find Sadie in the morning? Lenny and Hosea are buried real close by…we could go see them, if you wanted to…"

Arthur glanced over at her and gave a shallow nod. Maybe seeing them would settle some of the turmoil he was feeling. Grief was never something he'd figured out or gotten a decent hold on; he'd always bottled up all those feelings or forged them into yet another portion of his hardened exterior. He owed it to Hosea, though; to both of them. "I guess I should. Thank you, by the way. Abigail told me what you all did. That was real decent…puttin' 'em someplace proper…"

They spurred the horses on into a true gallop after that, making it through the marshes in a little under an hour, passing by Black Belle's shack and heading for that huge tree just to the south. When Willa pulled up on Tulip's reins, Arthur did the same and guided Rei to follow them off the road to their right.

There was still a tinge of pinkish light to the sky, and he could see the two markers plainly as they approached. He felt a heavy, cringing feeling in his gut. Rei stopped, flicking her head back and forth before lowering it towards the ground to nibble at the grass there. He dismounted slowly, feeling his mouth drying up as his feet carried him toward the graves.

Willa stayed mounted up for the time being, chewing her lip a bit before venturing to ask, "you…want me to leave you for a while?"

Arthur paused, fists clenching. "No…I…I won't be long." He walked forward. It felt like it took him a long time to reach the two mounds, but eventually he was there. His mouth twitched, features twisting into an unreadable expression. He reached up to remove his hat, opting to hold it against his chest. He felt the leather mold easily under the straining grip of his fingers.

"What a goddamn mess we made of things…" He dropped down to one knee in the dewy grass, then settled the other one down and hung his head.

He stayed there for some time, motionless and silent. Willa watched on for a while, feeling the sting of tears behind her eyes. Her heart broke all over again for him. She didn't know if she should go to him, put a hand on his shoulder, offer him an embrace. She felt so strongly for him, but they still had so much to learn about each other, and she had no idea if this was a boundary she could cross. But she'd had to do most of her mourning alone, and all she'd ever wanted during that month of hell was for him to come back to her.

Movement finally brought her out of her thoughts, and she watched as he reached down and began rummaging in his satchel. She resolutely made up her mind and slid down off her saddle, hitting the ground and making her way towards him. She watched him peull a small object out of his bag and look down at it, rubbing his thumb over the smooth, reflective surface. As he leaned forward to place it at the foot of Lenny's marker, she saw that it was a pocket watch.

Willa approached him slowly, almost how one would approach a skittish animal. Coming to a stop beside him, she reached out and tentatively placed a hand at the back of his neck. He suddenly screwed his face up, turned and grabbed her hips with his hands, burying his face into the fabric of her pants.

She sucked in a breath that caught in her throat, managing to do little more than emit a small guttural squeak from her lungs. Her other hand immediately went around his neck and she held him tightly, trying to find some kind of a steadying balance in the way his shoulders rose and fell beneath her.

She didn't say anything; there wasn't anything to say. She held him like that for a long time, unsure whether he actually spilled tears or not. She didn't bother to ask about the watch; it must have meant something, but whatever it was, it was between Arthur and Lenny. She just held onto him until he decided he was ready to go. And when he finally did, they rode back to the stilt shack in silence so that they could go to bed and hold on to each other for a little while longer.


	24. Beaver Hollow - Icarus, Undone

As Willa and Arthur made their way in to St. Denis the next day, the first thing she noticed was how much his body language changed. He kept his head tilted low, the brim of his hat keeping his eyes well hidden. He barely spoke at all, and when he did he kept his voice muted; a few times she'd had to guide Tulip over closer to him just to ask him to repeat whatever it was he'd said to her. He seemed to hunch his shoulders like he was trying to make himself look smaller and more unimposing.

She tried to keep her eyes peeled for anyone who seemed like they might be looking at him funny, but she kept finding herself getting caught up in her own thoughts. _This_ was what it meant being an outlaw. He'd said he'd spent his days running, and she had to wonder how much of it had been that Robin Hood fantasy they'd spoken of before, all easy and care-free; because whatever it was now, it certainly wasn't that.

She recalled that room in the basement of the police station and had to close her eyes briefly as her gut churned. All those bodies; _he_ had been one of the perpetrators of that. He had cut a bloody swath through the city a little over a month ago, and the night before she had held onto him with all the tenderness of a mother soothing her child; and he had surely needed the soothing. The dichotomy present there within him was almost astounding.

She had to wonder if part of the self-loathing he seemed to feel was correlated with the guilt of having done those things that seemed so against his fundamental nature. The guilt of being the man Dutch raised him to be. Having seen what kind of man he could be when he wasn't under Dutch's direction was what kept her from recoiling from him in horror at what he'd been a part of; helping that doctor back in Rhodes, the story he'd told her of helping those two lovesick children from the Gray and Braithwaite families, helping _her_ all those countless times when he never had to. Her fists tightened around the reins when she thought about all of it. They'd both been so deeply scarred, it was no wonder they'd each convinced themselves an early death was the only option.

Any time he had to ride back into St. Denis from now on, he would have to hope and pray that no one recognized him as one of the van der Linde bank robbers. Even after the trolley fiasco they'd had to be careful, but now…now she was starting to understand what a big undertaking it was for him to agree to attempt rescuing John from Sisika. From the moment they'd crossed the city lines to go meet Sadie, his life was in danger. She hoped desperately that he'd moved past that worrying ambivalence toward death he'd seemed so prone to; that this was simply him putting his life on the line to rescue a brother and a friend and save a little boy from losing a father, because it truly _meant_ something to him. Willa heard Arthur clearing his throat from off to her right and looked over, losing her train of thought.

"You said Doyle's, right? Believe it's just around the corner here, isn't it?" Voice low, head still tilted down even as he nodded toward the intersection they were coming up on.

Willa nodded as she spied Bob just ahead and pulled up the reins beside one of the unoccupied hitching posts sticking up out of the sidewalk. She slid down out of the saddle and looped the reins around it, glancing over as Arthur followed suit a few feet away. She watched him for the few moments his back was turned; the set of his shoulders was tense, his movements brusque. He was on high alert, but he did it all with such practiced ease that no observer would ever notice unless they knew him.

She took a step towards him when he turned around to start heading up the sidewalk, making him come to an abrupt stop as she lifted her hand to curl her fingers around the back of his neck. Leaning up on her toes and reaching up to tilt her cavalry hat back, she pressed her lips to his before he had a proper chance to react. It wasn't exactly acceptable decorum for a woman to be so forward, but she didn't exactly care.

Arthur was startled out of his solicitude, flinching ever so slightly at the abruptness of her actions; but he was kissing her back in no time. He didn't get the chance to settle a hand on her waist before she was dropping back to the balls of her feet, taking a step back from him. His expression softened as he gazed down at her. "What's that for…?"

She chewed her lip for a moment, looking up at him. "I need a reason? C'mon. Let's see if Sadie's inside."

He huffed out a terse little laugh and shook his head, brushing his fingers against hers as they fell into step beside each other. A few moments after they entered the small tavern, Sadie approached from the back room. "'Bout time. Good to see you again, Willa. Any problems comin' in?"

Willa planted her hands on her hips and shook her head. Arthur leaned an elbow against the bar, threading his fingers together. "Nah."

"Guess they know now we ain't in the city." Sadie stopped beside them and propped herself against the bar with one hand.

Arthur's brows knitted. "Who, Mr. Milton's friends?"

"Yeah, they've had patrols out ever since you boys disappeared. Well…" Sadie let out a short little sigh. "At least you're alive."

Arthur let out a gentle scoff, raising his eyebrows. "Yeah. Both of us."

Sadie cocked an eyebrow and glanced at Willa, who only averted her gaze towards the windows. Her mouth thinned out, and she eyed Arthur again, her expression softening. "What happened in, eh…?"

"Guarma?"

"Yeah."

Arthur shook his head. "Nothin' nice."

"What happened to Dutch…? 'Cause he seems-"

"I don't know. Seems as…what began happening in Blackwater, began happening years ago, maybe. A slow decline, I guess." He straightened up from where he'd been leaning on the bar, brushing his fingers against Willa's arm before moving off toward the door of the saloon. They'd only been there for a few minutes, but it was already longer than he wanted to stay in any one place in that city.

Her and Sadie trailed after him, Sadie speaking up again from beside her. "What do you mean?"

"I don't know, I ain't quite sure…so what else happened here?" Arthur stepped aside to hold open one of the swinging doors, letting the two women leave first.

"I started gatherin' people up as best I could after you boys left. And John…you know that part. And Willa, Charles 'n Abigail robbed the morgue, buried Hosea and Lenny together." She came up to Bob, hooking one foot into a stirrup to pull herself up into the saddle.

Willa piped up from beside Tulip as she hooked her own foot into a stirrup. "That's one of the reasons we were a bit late in showin' up to meet you. I…brought him to see them last night."

Arthur grunted as he mounted up, casting his gaze around the street.

Sadie hummed as she settled herself in the saddle, turning Bob so that they could head up the road. "Good. Follow me."

Arthur pulled Rei up to Sadie's left, Willa urging Tulip up to her right so that they were flanking her. "So what's the plan here?"

"Well, I figure before we do anything, we need to make sure John's even still at this prison."

Arthur eased Rei into a trot, letting one hand rest by his side. "And how do we do that?"

"We need to get up high enough to get a proper look at the place."

He let out a nervous little laugh. "What? It's on an island, ain't it? Unless you're plannin' on learnin' how to fly…"

Sadie glanced back at him with a little smirk on her face. "That's _exactly_ what we're gonna do. _I've_ found us a hot air balloon…"

"You ain't serious?"

Willa looked over at Sadie with wide eyes. "My God, you're a genius! That's the only way we'll be able to get a good look at the place!"

"Damn right. Now, the pilot, or whatever you call him, he thinks we're just in it for a lesson…a bit of a tour." Sadie broke out into a low chuckle. "He's quite the character. I think you'll like him, Arthur."

Arthur let out a low chuckle, shaking his head. "Ya know…I'm impressed. You've really stepped things up, ain't you?"

"Hey, we didn't know if you was even comin' back. Whole thing hit folks real hard. You can see it…Molly went and fell fully into the bottle, though she's disappeared now; Strauss is a bag of nerves, this one over here blew her top and took off, Swanson, well…Swanson's actually gone and cleaned up his act. So, I guess it ain't all gone to shit. I'm just happy you boys were able to find us. Until the Pinkertons showed up…"

They rode onto the large bridge that led north out of the city, the horses' hoof beats loud and pronounced as they crossed over the wooden structure. Sadie continued after a brief silence. "Oh, by the way, I've been huntin' O'Driscoll boys…killed two of the sons of bitches at a campsite last week."

"What!? Is that what you were doin' when you told me you were goin' hunting by yourself!?"

Sadie glanced over at Willa, a scowl darkening her features. "I didn't lie, did I?"

"Well…no! But, you should've told me! You should've had somebody with you!"

Arthur looked over at Wilhelmina from Sadie's other side, wondering if she knew she was being an absolute hypocrite. "C'mon, darlin'. You know that's the pot callin' the kettle black, right…?"

Willa shot him a dirty glance. "I was drunk, Arthur! How was I supposed to know I'd end up at his goddamn doorstep, out for blood!?"

Sadie glanced back at Willa, then at Arthur. She was going to ask what the hell had happened the night Wilhelmina had stormed out of Lakay, but when she looked forward again she saw the red and white-striped balloon peeking out from behind a tree off in front of them. "I _am_ gonna ask what ya'll are talkin' about later, but would you _look_ at that? She a beauty, ain't she?"

"From here on the ground, yes…" Arthur pulled up on Llamrei's reins, coming to a stop beside Sadie and dismounting.

"Mr. Bullard!?" Sadie slid down from the saddle, walking towards the basket with the huge balloon attached regally above it.

Suddenly a man popped up from inside the basket, a brilliantly curled gray mustache decorating his face and an aviator's cap complete with flight goggles adorning the top of his head. "Ah, Mrs. Adler! It's good to see you! Good to see you!" He clambered out of the basket one leg at a time, his gaze shifting between the other two.

Sadie extended a hand toward Arthur and Willa. "This is my friend I told you about, Mr. Morgan and his…wife, Wilhelmina."

"Ah yes, Arturo Bullard, at your service…" He walked forward and made a show of bowing before the both of them.

Arthur's head had been tilted back pretty much since they'd dismounted; he'd been eyeing that balloon as if it might suddenly produce a gun and shoot him full of lead. He didn't look away when he absently replied in greeting, "Arthur Morgan."

"Well, it's a nice fresh day for flying, sir." Bullard stepped between Arthur and Willa, placing a hand on the outlaw's shoulder and guiding him back towards the basket. "A day like today and Icarus would have made it across the sea! You ever flown before, sir?"

Arthur side-eyed the man cautiously. "No."

"Oh, it's quite a thing! Quite a thing…" Bullard reached up and pinched the goggles between the fingers of both hands, lowering them and fixing them on his face before leaning over the edge of the basket to rummage around inside. "Now! Put these on and hop in!" He emerged with another pair of goggles, handing them over to Arthur.

He looked back between Sadie and Willa before tossing the goggles absentmindedly over his shoulder into the grass. "Well, ain't either of them two comin'?"

"Oh! Women can't fly, sir! Are you insane?"

"They can't?"

"Oh no, sir, does terrible damage to them, to their vapors! I thought everyone knew about that! Why, a delicate flower like Mrs. Adler? Ha ha, heavens above!"

Wilhelmina's face immediately dropped, and she looked over at Sadie with a pained expression. The thought of riding up into the clouds in a hot air balloon had been absolutely exhilarating to her. She quirked her mouth when Sadie just glanced back smugly and shrugged.

Arthur sighed and looked back at Sadie. "Where'd you find this guy?"

Sadie smirked and let out a small snort. "I told you you two would get on."

Arthur frowned and glanced back at Bullard, who had already climbed back into the basket of the balloon and was busy throwing some of the ballast over one side. "Are you sure about this?"

"Certain, sir. Quite certain. Shall we?"

Arthur heaved out a sigh and spread his arms at his sides in exasperation. "Guess that's it, then." He strode forward a few feet and stopped in front of Willa, sweeping one hand up to scoop her old cavalry hat off of her head so that he could lean down and kiss her.

Sadie folded her arms and cocked an eyebrow at the two of them. Well, that was one of her questions answered.

Arthur finally broke away a minute later and took a step back, looking down at her and gently settling the hat back onto her head before glancing over at Sadie. "You two stay outta trouble."

Sadie gave him a nod and a little wave while Willa grabbed for his fingers, briefly squeezing them before he was turning away from them and climbing up into the basket.

Bullard clapped him on the shoulder before looking back at the women, comical in his little flight goggles. "Wish us luck! I've only crashed twice. Now, pull on that rope…and hope for the best!" He bent down and slung the rest of the ballast over the edge of the basket while Arthur looked up and gingerly grasped the cord that hung down from the burners.

As the balloon started a slow ascent, Willa could only watch with a slack jaw, tilting her head back. Sadie reached up and offered another wave, yelling, "you boys have fun!"

Willa swallowed as the balloon shrunk up into the sky, suddenly feeling very grateful she hadn't been allowed in. She thought she wasn't afraid of heights, growing up in the mountains, but just the thought of what Arthur must have been seeing at that moment made a shudder run up her spine. If that balloon burst, there was no shooting his way out of that.

"So. The two of you…?"

Willa blinked and looked over at Sadie, who was staring at her with another smug expression from under the brim of her hat. She felt her cheeks flushing and cleared her throat, stumbling along behind as Sadie turned to make her way back to the horses. She glanced back up into the air once more, just in time to catch the balloon disappearing up into the clouds.

Sadie hauled herself back up into Bob's saddle, trailing Willa with her eyes as the other woman mounted up beside her. "You suddenly mute? Spill it, woman. Did you finally take my advice?"

Willa blinked and looked over at her. "He said he loves me, Sadie."

Sadie clicked her tongue and guided Bob back towards the road, emitting a low chuckle. "Well, that's good ain't it? It's like I said; if it's there, you take it. Ain't no guarantee what'll happen tomorrow…or even today, if the winds change."

Willa shot Sadie a dirty glance, whistling for Rei to come along behind them. "Jesus, don't talk like that. I…I _wanna_ take it. More than anything. But he ain't ready to cut loose yet. And I…I understand, wantin' to make sure the others'll be okay."

Sadie looked back over to her as they turned left onto the road and began heading north. "Well, I guess that ain't much of a surprise. That gang's like his family. Dutch 'n Hosea pretty much raised him, ain't that right?"

Willa nodded. "Yes. And things are…well, you know. You've seen how Dutch is. And while we were in Annesburg, this kid I rescued back in St. Denis showed up outta nowhere and said he'd followed me, and now _he's_ back at camp too, and…" She sighed plaintively, dropping the reins from one hand to make an expressive motion in the air. "It's all a goddamn mess, is what it is…"

Sadie cocked an eyebrow at her. "What was you doin' in Annesburg? What happened after you left camp, Willa?"

She stared down at Tulip's withers for a long while before finally looking back at the blonde woman. Sadie was her friend, and there was absolutely no reason to lie about the stupid, drunkenly impetuous decisions she had made. She told her everything she could remember as they rode north, back out of the marshlands of Lemoyne.

"Jesus, Willa. You're lucky you ain't dead. If those boys hadn't showed up to clear out Beaver Hollow…"

"I know, I know. I got lucky; luckier than I should've, that's for damn sure. And I'm…I'm sorry for goin' off on you about chasin' those O'Driscolls…"

Sadie scoffed quietly, casting her gaze out towards the water as they rounded the bend in the trail that would bring them through Van Horn. "Now I know what that 'callin' the kettle black' comment was about. I only been after a few at a time. How many men you think was in that house _you_ stormed into?"

Willa shrugged uncomfortably. "I don't know. I killed five or six, I think, before I got to Clifford. Like I said, I know I got lucky. I ain't even sure why Dutch let me off so easy, after all of that. Especially after what happened with Molly…"

Sadie looked back over at her, a frown etched upon her features. "You stuck with us, Willa. If anything was gonna get through to him, _that_ must've. The man might be losin' it, but hell, I don't know, maybe he was grateful in a way. Molly hated it there, hated not havin' all of his attention, hated what he was turnin' her into. Might not have been the best way to go about it, but you probably did 'em both a favor."

She sighed. "That's about what Arthur said, too. I don't know, maybe you're right. If she made it past those goddamn hill people, maybe she…maybe she's on a boat back to Dublin, back to a normal life. Guess that's the best I can hope for."

Gulls squawked from over by the docks as they rode through Van Horn, nodding at a few of the friendlier folks as they passed. Willa looked over at Sadie, suddenly curious. "Where are we goin', Sadie?"

"…Annesburg. When I spoke with Mr. Bullard, he said the winds might start blowin' northerly sometime today, so he expected to make land again somewhere north of here. Figured waitin' there for 'em would be our best bet."

Willa felt a tinge of apprehension at returning to Annesburg so soon after seeing her brother there, but she just sighed again and cast her gaze over toward the sparkling water of the Lannahechee. "If…if you see me pullin' my pistol to shoot a bastard after we get there, just know it's my brother. And he absolutely deserves it."

Sadie cocked an eyebrow. "Well, after what you told me he's done to you, just tell me what direction to point mine. Maybe you're right, maybe I should've had somebody to watch my back goin' after those O'Driscolls…and you should have somebody at your back goin' after that brother of yours."

Willa was silent for a long while after that. Her gaze shifted to the trees, cropping up more numerous around them as they made their way further north. "Have…have you thought about runnin' away from all this, Sadie?"

She huffed and shook her head. "Nah. Ain't got no place else to go. Dutch and Arthur…they found me, treated me decent, took me with 'em when they just as easily could've left me to burn up with the rest of my life and my dreams after Micah set my goddamn house on fire. Even if Dutch is startin' to lose it, I guess I owe it to 'em to see all of this through. And I…well, I care about the rest of them folks, too…same as you. Abigail 'n the girls was all real kind to me when I still couldn't see past what those fuckers done to me and my Jakey…"

Willa winced and looked down at Tulip's withers. "I know what that's like. Gettin'…all locked up inside of your own head like that. Spendin' all your time with ghosts. But I'm your friend too, don't you forget that. I'm here, if you ever need anything. Includin' someone to watch your back while you hunt down those goddamn O'Driscolls…"

Sadie smirked and tilted her head down, reminiscent of the way Arthur was wont to do. "And I'm your friend too, Willa. And with the two of us together, and Arthur besides, well…maybe things really ain't gone to shit just yet."

They urged the horses into a gallop to make better time riding into Annesburg, unsure of when or exactly where Arthur and Arturo Bullard would float back in with that balloon. Sadie pulled up on Bob's reins outside the gunsmith's, and Willa followed suit.

Dismounting, she glanced over at the blonde woman. "Well, what do we do while we wait? Don't think there's a saloon in this town, which I guess ain't necessarily a bad thing…"

Sadie chuckled as she slid to the ground, looping Bob's reins over the hitching post and wiping her hands against each other. "Well…they got booze in the general store, don't they? Guess we could buy a bottle to share and go dangle our toes in the water while we wait for the menfolk to get back."

Willa looked over at Sadie incredulously with her eyebrows raised, surprised the woman would still offer to drink with her after all the trouble she'd caused. She broke out into something of a sheepish chuckle, reaching up under the cavalry hat to scratch at the back of her head. "Well, I…sure, I guess so. Why not?"

They started to make their way across the train tracks when Willa idly glanced over at the sound of a few voices just off to their right. A group of five or six men dressed in dark suit jackets and dusters were walking northwards away from them just under that large building that bridged across the width of the road.

"So we rally the boys, 'ead down to St. Denis to…what? Shoot the bloody noose off from 'round Colm's neck?"

A chuckle came from one of them and he shrugged his shoulders and nodded. "More or less. Ain't the first time they've tried to hang him. Certainly won't be the last. We'll break him loose, like always, then disappear again…"

"Hey, any of you boys like some company?" A woman's voice floated out from the shadows underneath the building, causing a few of them to turn around. They all appeared to be adorned with green neckerchiefs or dirty green vests under their coats.

One of those men came to a stop, lazily lowering a cigarette from his lips and blowing the smoke out towards the woman who stood in the shadows, leaned up against one of the building's many wooden supports in an attempt to look seductive. "Aye. S'pose I could use some company, mam." He broke out into a wolfish grin, glancing back at his mates briefly. "Wouldn't expect to get paid for it, t'ough, if I was you…"

The woman furrowed her brows, a streak of fear crossing her pockmarked face. Was it…was that Mrs. Downes? Willa tried to squint to better make her out when Sadie suddenly snarled from beside her, "fucking _O'Driscolls_!?"

Before Willa could say or do anything else, Sadie had her revolver drawn and was already stalking with deadly intent towards the group of men. "Hey! Any of you bastards remember me!?"

"Sadie!" Willa hissed from behind her, fumbling to draw her own pistol for lack of any other options.

The men all looked over, startled out of the cat-and-mouse game they seemed so eager to start playing with that poor woman. The man who'd been speaking to Mrs. Downes narrowed his eyes and squinted, a befuddled smirk crossing his features as he dropped his cigarette and crushed it neatly under one of his dirty boots. "No. Who the fuck are you?"

"My name is Mrs. Sadie Adler! And you sons of bitches ruined my goddamn life!" She aimed down the barrel and pulled the trigger with no further hesitation, sending the fella with the Irish accent crumpling into the dirt a moment after the deafening sound of the shot rang out. His friends all looked shocked for a few moments, glancing back and forth at each other before breaking and scattering out from under the building, running towards a group of horses tethered up just on the other side.

"C'mon!" Sadie turned and broke into a run back for their horses, fully intent on giving the men a chase.

"Shit! _Sadie_!" Willa threw her hands up and broke into a sprint after her, clambering up into Tulip's saddle just as the other woman was spurring Bob into a gallop to go after the men. She could already hear their hoof beats pounding away down the road, and she cursed to herself as she bucked her own feet, encouraging Tulip to follow. "Gee up!"

They raced under that building that spanned the street and made to follow the men, who they could just see keeping to the right of a fork in the road and riding off into the trees beside the river. They spurred the horses onwards, Sadie leaning forward over Bob's neck looking down the barrel of her revolver again, trying to get a clear shot at one of them.

She flicked the hammer and pulled the trigger, and a scream from out ahead signified her bullet had found its mark. They heard a thud and suddenly a rider-less horse was tearing off out of the formation, making a break for the left and almost getting run down by another man's horse.

Sadie bared her teeth in a deadly grin, spurring Bob to go even faster. "I'm comin' for you bastards!"

Willa did her best to aim for one of the men's backsides but shooting from horseback was never a skill she'd quite gotten the hang of, especially going as fast as they were. She tried to take a deep breath before pulling the trigger, but she choked on it when she saw the scene rushing up on them from a clearing out ahead.

Those men were riding back to rejoin a bigger group camped out in a clearing by the river, and there had to be at least twenty of them. They started shouting as they rode in, telling their friends to mount up and draw weapons, that they had pursuers.

"Sadie! Pull up, turn around! Turn around, _turn around!"_ She hollered and yanked up on Tulip's reins, pulling hard to the left, trying to turn and make a run for it before too many of the O'Driscolls could start out after them. She heard Sadie utter a fearsome, frustrated scream before she was turning Bob back around as well, heading back for the road.

They spurred the horses on even faster than they had before, glancing back behind every few seconds to see how close the O'Driscolls were getting. Sadie turned in her saddle and brandished the revolver, blasting off a few shots at their pursuers as they made their way back towards Annesburg.

Willa ducked and grit her teeth as she felt a bullet whiz by, fumbling with the hammer on her pistol before turning in her own saddle and letting fly with a few shots. A few of the men were gaining on them, horses lathered up in a full gallop. One of them got hit and dropped his gun in favor of clutching at his chest, his body tumbling from the saddle only to be drug by his foot in the stirrup for a ways, kicking up a plume of dirt.

They thundered under that building that bridged the road, emerging on the other side and maneuvering around a few dumbstruck pedestrians who practically had to jump out of the way of the horses. Suddenly they heard a shot ring out from up above them, and both women whipped their necks up to see that hot air balloon sailing towards them, the barrel of Arthur's rifle poking up over the basket.

Sadie let out a loud whoop from beside Willa, yelling out, "you're just in time!" She had to duck shortly after as another bullet whizzed by dangerously close, and she quickly turned and lifted the revolver again, flicking the hammer and firing off more shots at the men still coming up behind.

Willa glanced back, seeing men falling off their horses as they took the bullets from Arthur's rifle, but it was like they were never-ending. Another bullet whizzed by from off to the right behind them and she cursed, whipping herself around to see more men coming at them from the road that led up into the hills to the west. She brought her pistol up to aim it, blasting off a few shots and managing to take down two out of three of them before she had to straighten in the saddle and reload.

They seemed to have gotten a slight reprieve as Arthur took out that last man coming up on them from the right, Sadie taking that time to reload her own revolver as the horses continued their frenzied flight southward. Soon enough more shots rang out from behind them to the right again, even more O'Driscolls making their way out of an open valley where it seemed loggers had been hard at work.

"Jesus Christ, Sadie! They ain't stoppin'!" Willa angled her gun in front of her, taking aim at more men who were barreling down another road to the right ahead of them. All of a sudden they were very close to being hemmed in from the front and the back.

Sadie whipped around to focus on the men coming at them from the front and helped Willa pick them off while Arthur continued taking potshots at the men behind them from up in the balloon. She still heard hoof beats coming up behind though, and she grit her teeth, leaning forward in the saddle and bucking her feet to encourage Tulip to go even faster. "C'mon, my girl! Just a little more!"

Suddenly from back above them, they heard Arthur yelling. "You girls need to grab the rope!"

Willa glanced back up, squinting slightly as the sun blinded her for a second. "Arthur! There's a bridge up ahead!"

"Shit! I'll come down and get you from the other side!"

Sadie and Willa both pulled up on the reins to slow the horses so that they wouldn't outrun the balloon, turning back to shoot at more of their pursuers while Arthur attempted to maneuver higher and then lower so that he could pick them up. Three more men went down behind them, and Sadie glanced up as they passed out from under the bridge. She quickly turned her focus back to Willa, nodding at her as the rope dangling down from the balloon came up between the two of them. "You go first!"

Willa looked over at her, a worried grimace etched on her face. "Are you sure!?"

"Yes, damnit! Go! Grab the rope!"

Willa grit her teeth and focused on the rope for a moment. She shook her head and stuffed her pistol back into its holster, letting go of the reins with her other hand to plant her palms on the saddle beneath her. She took one big breath before pushing herself upwards, bringing her legs out of the stirrups and up underneath her, so that she was crouched on the saddle. She whipped her head up again to look over at the rope, then up at Arthur, whose face she could just make out over the edge of the basket.

"C'mon, darlin'! Grab the rope!"

She winced as Sadie fired a few more shots at the men still coming up behind them and finally stood as quickly as she could, holding her arms out to the sides for balance before tipping off the edge of Tulip's saddle and grabbing that rope as tightly as she could. She clamped her thighs around it, yelling nonsensically as her hair whipped around her face. She tried to start shimmying up, but she wasn't getting very far very fast. "Pull, Arthur!"

She felt the rope jerking and glanced up to see him hauling the rope up arm over arm, cords of muscle standing out from under where the sleeves of his shirt were rolled up to his elbows. She looked back down at Sadie, who was still trying to fight off the men behind her. The other woman zigzagged Bob a little bit back and forth across the road, trying to throw off their aim.

Arthur continued hauling the rope as fast as he could, until finally Willa was up at the side of the basket. She ventured to let go with one hand so that she could reach up to grab the edge, and a moment later she felt his hand grabbing her under her other shoulder and then his other hand was grabbing her forearm and he was hauling her up and over.

She let out a strangled wheeze, collapsing to her knees on the floor of the basket as he moved back to the edge to throw the rope back down for Sadie. She'd managed to take out a few more of the boys who were chasing her, but she was pushing Bob hard and the stallion wouldn't be able to keep up that pace for much longer.

"What happened to Bullard!?"

"Got shot!"

"Arthur…!"

He turned back to Willa, only to see her pointing up toward the burners above their heads. He followed the direction her finger was pointing to see that the fire had gone out and he cursed, grabbing that cord that hung down and pulling on it frantically. It seemed that the balloon had run out of fuel, or possibly a stray bullet had ruptured one of the tanks, but either way they were going down. He glanced around wildly as the tops of the trees were suddenly flying past them, the balloon quickly losing altitude as the wind pushed it away from the road and west into the forests.

Sadie cringed as another bullet whizzed by before craning her neck, jaw hanging slack as she watched a gust of wind take the balloon across the road right above her and off toward her right. It was descending fast, breaking through the treetops and heading off toward the Kamassa. "Shit!" She pulled on Bob's reins and spurred him off the road and over into the trees, trying to follow the direction Arthur and Willa were headed.

Willa jumped to her feet, pressing her back into the edge of the basket and gripping it with both hands as she saw the river approaching much faster than she was comfortable with. "Arthur…!?"

"Hold on!" He pressed himself into the other side, trying to keep their weight even as the basket tipped drunkenly. It skipped across the top of the water as it came down, jostling them around before it lurched into the mud on the other side of the bank and spilled the two of them out onto the ground.

Willa groaned plaintively as she spit out a mouthful of mud and reached up to wipe her face with her sleeve, trying to grab for her pistol with her other hand as she heard the splashing of hooves in the water behind them.

"You fools break your necks!?" Sadie was coming up on where they'd crashed, guiding Bob across the shallows and around the overturned basket.

"Ahh…don't think so…" Arthur slowly lifted his head from where he'd landed on his back, wincing and blinking his eyes. "Well…maybe."

"Well you best get over it, 'cause there's more behind me on the other side! Get up and take cover!" She leapt off Bob's saddle, lunging to give the horse a smack on the rear to send him off further into the forest and out of harm's way.

Willa rolled over and sat up, cringing at all the bruised spots that had suddenly flared up with pain. She huffed out a shaky grunt and looked up to see more of the O'Driscolls emerging from the trees on the other side. She cursed and scrambled to take cover behind a boulder off to her left while Arthur and Sadie spread out to her right.

Sadie stopped next to the thick trunk of a tree, aiming her revolver and taking one man off the back of a horse, spilling him into the water before she ducked for cover. "These goddamn O'Driscolls!"

Arthur leveled the barrel of his rifle over the top of the boulder he'd crouched behind, taking another out just before his horse could start across the river. "You can't leave it for _one day_!?"

Willa squinted one eye and took another man in the gut with a bullet, sending him spilling into the mud just on their side of the river as his horse reared and took off. "Shut up and shoot!"

Arthur grunted and popped up from behind the boulder again to aim for some more of the fresh cavalry riding out of the tree line.

Sadie screamed, ducking out from behind the tree to shoot at a few more who were leading their horses into the river. _"You fuckers, I'll kill you all!"_

Willa grit her teeth and ducked down to reload, quickly shoving rounds into the magazine as she looked up to see how many more were coming. The ranks finally looked to be thinning out, and Sadie and Arthur both took down another two men in the time it took her to get her pistol reloaded. She extended her arm and steadied it atop the boulder, taking aim yet again.

After another few minutes that felt like a damn eternity, they finally stopped coming. Sadie stalked out from behind the tree, spitting onto the ground as a few wails and moans still emanated from the men dying over on the banks and in the water. "Looks like we made it. That'll show 'em! _Fuckin' bastards!_ "

Arthur stood up, slinging his rifle over his shoulder and making his way towards her. "The hell is wrong wit' you!? I only left you an hour ago. You can't stay outta trouble for one goddamn hour!? You got that poor bastard Bullard killed for his troubles! I kinda liked him!"

Willa bolted up from where she'd been crouched, jamming her pistol back into its holster and sticking two fingers between her lips to whistle loudly for Tulip as she marched over to them. "Leave her be, Arthur! Circumstances was more complicated than that!"

Sadie cut a hand through the air, pressing in defiantly towards Arthur. "That don't matter! They got Colm! The government…they got Colm O'Driscoll! I heard 'em talkin' about it! They're gonna hang him in St. Denis!"

Arthur spread his hands, shaking his head and glancing at Willa before his gaze landed back on Sadie incredulously. "Hang him? Okay…"

"Mm-mm!" Sadie lifted a finger to point at him. "Now I know he's already been tried twice for murder and found guilty!"

"Sure, and no doubt he'll escape again!"

"No he won't! 'Cause we're gonna make sure of it…"

Willa took another step forward, voice lowering in warning. "Sadie…"

"I…we have our _own_ problems with the law, in case you ain't noticed?" Arthur's brows knitted, his voice rising an octave.

Sadie turned away from him then, sauntering a few steps away. "Dutch'll wanna see him swing…"

Arthur scoffed. "Sure, Dutch…he wouldn't even help us wit' _Marston_! And our situation is really messed up right now, you know how things is!"

"He's right Sadie. I know you hate him, hell, _Arthur_ hates him!" Willa extended a hand towards the man to emphasize the point she was trying to make. "But ain't we got more pressing concerns!? Shouldn't we prioritize a little bit!?"

Sadie grimaced and crossed her arms obstinately, gaze flitting back and forth between the other two. "Bastard's gonna swing. I'm gonna make sure of it-"

Arthur interrupted her, extending a hand out in frustration. "Closely followed by _Marston_!"

Willa looked over at him sharply, a deep frown crossing her features.

Sadie chewed her lip for a moment. "You saw him?"

Arthur planted his hands on his hips, reining himself in a bit and glancing down toward his boots. "Yes…in the fields."

"Okay…then we go rescue him."

Arthur's eyes flicked back up to Sadie, incredulity creeping back into his voice. "From a state penitentiary?"

"No…but from the fields? Yes. That, we can manage."

Willa's eyes widened. She looked back and forth between the two of them, a growing feeling of unease rising within her. She'd known the ultimate purpose of this whole thing was to eventually break John out, but the stark reality of it was only just now starting to hit her.

Arthur shifted back and forth on his feet for a few moments. "It's well-guarded."

"Guarded, sure…but not behind bars."

Arthur squinted slightly. "No, he's not behind bars…"

"So…that's how we'll do it. Bust him from his work detail."

"I guess," Arthur breathed out in a sigh.

"It's best just the two of us go." Sadie's eyes darted towards Wilhelmina briefly; she knew there was going to be pushback after she said that.

Willa raised a finger to point at Sadie, her hackles rising. "Hey now, that ain't fair! You wanna steal a fella out the yard of a state penitentiary with only _two goddamn people!?_ How's that even gonna work!?"

Arthur's mouth thinned out into a line before he held a hand out towards Willa in a placating gesture. "Now, she's got a point, darlin'. Less of us there is, might be easier that way. And this is instigatin' a jailbreak; we're talkin' about breakin' _federal_ laws here. That weren't nothin' you signed on for."

"Yeah, well that don't matter much now that I told Dutch I'd fall into line!" Willa scoffed, throwing her hands up. "Seems as if Hosea _finally_ talked me into it, in the end. I'm a part of this gang now, for better or worse. And I would like to help make sure Jack gets to grow up with his daddy around, even if he is dumb as a bag of rocks!"

"Two is all we need, Willa. Now I ain't keen on puttin' the both of you in danger. And it's _my_ plan, so I'm definitely goin'. Besides, ain't you got that kid back at Beaver Hollow? You can't think about just yourself anymore, hon." Sadie gave her a meaningful stare as if Sam had been a child sprung from her own loins.

"Oh, Jesus Christ, Sadie!" Willa threw her hands up yet again, turning away from them and walking a few feet away. She huffed out a sigh, planting her hands on her hips and kicking at the dirt.

Arthur glanced at Sadie and held a hand up to let her know to stay put. He walked over to where Willa was standing, pausing for a moment. When she wouldn't look around to acknowledge him, he continued on the rest of the way around her so that they faced each other again. "Now I don't know what Dutch has got planned, but _this_ weren't part of it. He didn't wanna go after Marston yet, so…if he needs to be ornery wit' folk, better it be us than you right now."

She chewed her lip, finally flicking her gaze upwards and affording him a long glance before she spoke. "He ain't gonna get the chance to be ornery with anybody if you two run off and get yourselves killed. 'Cause that'll be the end of that gang." She sighed, closing her eyes and rubbing them with her fingers wearily. "I know Sam's with us 'cause of me. But it ain't like I'm his mother…"

The corner of his mouth curled slightly and he tilted his head down, lifting a hand to bring her chin up with his fingers. "We ain't gonna get ourselves killed. I'm gonna come back to you. I promise. But she's right…that boy needs somebody keepin' an eye on him, and he seems mighty attached to you. You should go back to camp, let Abigail know we're goin' for John…"

She scrunched her face up, brows drawing down. "Damnit, Arthur…fine. But you better come back. The both of you." Willa turned her head to look at Sadie with a stern expression, but the other woman simply nodded and waved a hand as if it were no big venture they were about to embark upon.

She turned back to Arthur, looking up at him for a few moments before reaching up to grab his neckerchief and pull him down by it, planting her lips against his firmly. He let out a small grunt, hands twitching at his sides before he gathered himself and pressed one of them around her waist to pull her in close.

When she broke away she made sure to find his eyes again, looking up at him seriously as she smoothed his neckerchief back down. "Good luck…"

The corner of his mouth quirked up and he gave her a shallow nod, his hand slipping off of her waist to rest over his holster. "Seems all my luck these days is tied in with you, so…wish me lots of it, I suppose. Just in case."

She swallowed and nodded, turning away from him but letting her hand linger against his chest for those last few moments before she was too far away to reach. She felt his fingers squeeze hers quickly before they parted. She tipped her head to Sadie as well before going to Tulip's side and mounting up. "I'll see you both back at camp, then."

"That you will. With Marston in tow." Sadie threw her a wink before turning to Arthur and settling her hands on her gun belt. "Let's get us a boat, a little one…and we'll sneak in, and get him outta there."

"Whatever you say, boss…" Arthur sighed and watched Willa ride off to the north for a few moments before whistling for Rei.


	25. Beaver Hollow - Those Who Need Saving

Willa knew she was coming up on the Elysian Pool before she could see it; the smell emanating from the water was enough to make anyone in a half-mile radius aware of its presence. It had a cloying mineral smell, coppery and sulfuric, that set her teeth on edge and gave her a slight headache. She'd noticed it first the day before when her and Arthur had ridden south to meet up with Sadie, but the both of them had been much too preoccupied to mention it.

It was too bad the place was so foul, because it was a beautiful spot. She eyed the sparkling water and the brief thought of trying to go for a swim crossed her mind, but she instinctively knew that it would be a bad idea. So she kept Tulip moving northwards, crossing the little wooden bridge at the southern tip of the Pool and heading towards the trail that would take her back up into the hills of Roanoke Ridge.

She clicked her teeth and jerked up on the reins when she reached the top, coming face to face with five Pinkerton agents spread out where the trail she was on met the road that would lead her back to Beaver Hollow.

They had a wagon and horses resting off to the side of the road, and each man had a rifle at the ready. One of them immediately raised a hand and hailed her, as if she didn't already know where her attention should be focused. "Hey! You there!"

Willa let one hand drop from the reins to settle beside her hip, close to her pistol in case she ended up needing it. She glanced around at the other agents before settling her gaze on the one who was now approaching. "Can I help you, sir?"

He came to a stop a few feet away, looking up at her from under the rim of his bowler hat. "My name is Agent Simms, with the Pinkerton Detective Agency. We're searching these hills for a real nasty group of bandits that escaped St. Denis. You hear about the massacre down there a month or so ago, miss?"

Willa drew her brows down and shook her head, hoping the agent wouldn't see how she was trembling in her saddle. "No, sir. I live up in Roanoke Valley. Not much reason to travel that far south."

"You heard any mention of the van der Linde Gang? Seen anything unusual up in these woods? They're a nasty sort, miss. Animals."

"Only thing unusual I've seen are those Murfree boys. Freaks, all of 'em. I'd be more concerned about them, if I were you. Sir."

"Hm." Agent Simms slung his rifle over his shoulder and reached toward one of his back pockets. Willa's fingers twitched for the butt of her gun, but she relaxed and let out a breath when he only produced some folded up papers. "Still, take a look at these if you would. Each one of 'em's worth more than a few thousand apiece, if that's any indication as to the heinous crimes they've committed." He unfolded the papers and passed them up to her.

They were bounty posters, and Dutch's was the very first one in the stack. $10,000 for him, and that was only if someone brought him in dead. The reward was $12,000 if anyone could bring him in alive. She pursed her lips and let out a low whistle. The gang would be free and clear forever with that kind of money spread out between them.

The second one made her breath catch in her throat, because it was for Arthur. Wanted Dead or Alive for murder, bank robbery, evading the authorities, thievery, assault...the list was a long one. $8,000 for him dead, $10,000 alive. She felt her heart sinking into the pit of her stomach and had to slip that page to the side. Micah, Bill, and Javier were next, and their bounties were only just slightly less than Arthur's.

She cleared her throat and tucked them all back into the stack, shaking her head. "Don't recognize any of these men. Sorry, sir. May be you're chasing the wrong leads up here."

Simms' brow knitted as he took the posters back from her, neatly re-folding them for deposit back into his pocket. "We have very good reason to doubt that, ma'am." He fell silent for a loaded moment, hard eyes searching her.

She swallowed, wondering if he'd heard that small hitch in her breath, seen the papers trembling in her hands though there was no breeze to speak of at the moment.

Suddenly he sighed, glancing back toward his fellows to shake his head before returning his gaze to her. "Well, miss, I'd get home if I were you, and stay there. Or at least, don't go riding out alone again in the future. There's a reason the feds are willing to dole out so much for those bastards, if you'll pardon my language."

She simply nodded, picking the reins back up. "I understand, sir. Usually my husband rides with me, but he's awful sick just at the moment."

He hummed absentmindedly and took a step back, extending a hand to silently let her know she could pass.

Willa clicked her tongue and urged Tulip forward, passing through the group of men to turn left and follow the road back toward Beaver Hollow. She skirted wide though, going further north and west to cross the river before doubling back and approaching the camp from the western side of the ravine.

Sean was the first person she saw as she ascended the track, stood in front of the scout fire on guard duty. "MacGuire. How you gettin' on?"

He glanced up at her, letting his rifle dangle at his side while he took a drag from the stub of a cigarette. "S'been better days, love, t'at's for sure. Feels like t'is whole camp's full o' right smug bastards just at the moment."

Her brows drew down and she slid off the saddle, moving to rummage in the saddlebags to get Tulip something of a lunch. "Ain't Dutch supposed to be the one who's so good at rallyin' you lot?"

Sean let out a humorless scoff. "Well, seems he's got greasy ole Micah Bell to do it for 'im now. He's been goin' round, whispering nasty t'ings in folk's ears 'bout how your boy Morgan's the one stirrin' the pot all about. Tellin' folk Dutch 'as finally lost it. I'd watch yourself, if I was you, love."

She scowled, whipping her head around to look at him from where she'd been feeding Tulip a stack of oatcakes. "That's goddamn ridiculous. Arthur's the most loyal man I ever met."

Sean nodded, half-turning to flick the stub of the cigarette into the scout fire behind him. "Aye, I know. Like a knight of ole imperial England, t'at one is. But, seems as if Javier and Bill ain't so inclined to disagree. S'why I'm sayin' watch your back. Ole Micah's got some words to say 'bout yourself as well."

Willa bared her teeth in a sneer, brushing off her hands to get the crumbs off as Tulip nickered rather happily beside her. "That goddamn bastard. This ain't the time for him to be stirrin' shit up! I just ran into a bunch of Pinkertons not too far from here, lookin' for all of 'em! And after what happened at Lakay...I heard it weren't nice."

Sean tilted his head. "No...all spite and shite is what t'at was. Opened fire on us wit' a bloody army-issue Gatling gun, they did. We'd 'ave been mincemeat if Art'ur and Mrs. Adler 'adn't stuck t'eir necks out. And here's old Micah, tellin' folk him and Marston were the ones makin' t'ings...difficult for us."

"Yeah, well...what's that tell you, Sean? Micah's only ever been in this for himself, that's plain as the day is long! I ain't known any of you for all that much of a time, and I ain't exactly the sharpest arrow, but I've seen enough to know that much. We _all_ need to watch out for him. Not just me."

Sean sighed and reached up to scratch the ginger scruff on his chin. "I know, believe me I ain't arguin' with you. Just uh...t'ought I'd share the information along."

Willa dipped her head, loosely fisting Tulip's reins in one hand so that she could lead the mare over to the hitching posts. "Yeah. I get it. Thank you."

Abigail approached her as she made her way towards the proper entrance of the camp, and she looked up at the younger woman as she looped Tulip's reins over one of the hitching posts.

"Willa! Is...is John-?"

"Sadie and Arthur are off to get him as we speak, Abigail. Said they only needed two for the job, so they sent me back to let you know."

Abigail sighed, glancing down at where her hands worried themselves against her abdomen. "Okay. I...thank you. For goin'. The boy's been..."

Willa let out a small snort, putting up a hand to scratch her nails at Tulip's mottled gray and silver neck. "I'm sure Jack's been worried sick. Anyway, how are _you?_ Sam ain't been too much of a nuisance, has he?"

Abigail shook her head. "I've...been better. These last few months ain't been kind to anybody. But Sam's...well, he's quiet. Kieran's been doin' well with him, keepin' him off over here with the horses. And Jack's been real glad to have somebody closer to his own age to play with."

Willa nodded. "Quiet ain't a bad thing for him to be around here. I guess I should go check on him. You seen him lately?"

Abigail nodded off toward Pearson's chuck wagon. "They was off gettin' somethin' to eat a few minutes ago. Takin' a break from playin' swords, I think."

Willa hummed in acknowledgement, letting her hand drop from Tulip's neck to settle on her hip. "Alright. Well hopefully Sadie and Arthur will be back with John before nightfall. Are...are Dutch and Micah around?"

"No. They rode off for Annesburg again this mornin'. Dutch still wouldn't even talk to me about John. All he's been sayin' is that he's 'got a plan.' Won't speak of what it is, though..." Abigail let her mouth drop into a worried grimace, looking quite a bit older than her twenty-two years just then.

Willa sighed, reaching out to place a hand on the younger woman's shoulder. "Hey. Don't matter what his plan is, 'cause Arthur and Sadie are takin' care of it. Okay? The best thing we can do right now is keep our heads down. I know Micah ain't fond of me, and it seems that ire of his is reachin' out towards Arthur and John too, and you by association, I imagine. So just keep your ears open. And...think about what I said to you, about cuttin' loose."

Abigail nodded, crossing her arms. "I know. I been thinkin' about it. Just ain't sure, with how loyal John is to Dutch. He talks a lot, but if the time comes...I still ain't sure he'd take an opportunity to run."

Willa's mouth quirked. "I know exactly how you feel..."

Abigail's gaze rose to meet hers again, and the two women shared a clear moment of understanding. They both wanted something different. They both wanted their men to want something different. But Willa was still unsure of the confidence she had in Arthur. Things had come so far already; even if he truly did long for a different life with her, would he be ready to split off on his own and disappear into some far corner of the country before it was too late?

She'd told him her loyalty was to him and no one else. But his loyalty was being split two ways, and he wasn't making it a hard thing to see. He'd told her he loved her, and she believed him in that, but his love for Dutch and the things he and his gang represented seemed to run far deeper.

She sighed and excused herself from Abigail, making her way towards the cook fire to see if the boys were still there. The sound of a throat loudly clearing off to her left startled her, and she looked over to see Bill Williamson with his hands hooked over his gun belt, staring at her rather pointedly.

She blinked, faltering and stopping in her tracks. "Bill..."

" _Miss Thorne._ Pleasure to have you back with us," he replied with sarcasm dripping from every word.

Willa chewed her lip for a moment, letting one of her hands rest atop the holster at her hip. "If you got somethin' to say, you might as well say it. I'm turnin' Arthur against you, is that it?"

"Well, you's the one said it. Is it true?"

Her eyes narrowed. "I know the two of us ain't got along quite so well as other folks, but I did think we had some kind of a mutual respect. I should've known better, I guess. If a cretin like Micah Bell's all it takes to change your opinion of one of your friends so goddamn easy."

Bill scoffed, taking an ambling step closer to her. "I seen the way you two is together ever since you first came to camp. All whispers and lingerin' looks. You're makin' him go soft on us. Arthur used to be a man a fella could look up to. Now look at him!"

"I ain't made him do nothin'! He's the one convinced me to stay and try to help you fools out of this goddamn mess you got yourselves into! Micah Bell is a goddamn liar and don't you believe elsewise for a second, Bill."

Bill poked his tongue into his cheek for a second, regarding her with something that looked like disdain. "We don't need no woman's help. You and that Sadie, playin' at bein' men...it ain't right!"

Willa narrowed her eyes at him. "I ain't playin' at bein' nothin'. And neither is she. You don't want the help of another gun, that's just fine. But don't you forget it's Dutch's decision to make, not yours. And he said if I fall into line, _we ain't gonna have no problems._ So are we? Gonna have a problem?"

Bill's mouth turned down into a sour frown and he huffed, but couldn't think of much else to say. He just growled and waved a hand at her dismissively. "Just know I got my eyes on you, woman!"

"Yeah, Yeah. You should have your eyes on those _goddamn Pinkertons!"_ She yelled after him as he walked away from her. "Asshole..." she mumbled and resumed her journey toward the cook fire.

"Miss Willa!" Sam came barreling towards her from where the wash tubs were set up on the side of the chuck wagon, little Jack in tow just behind him.

"Hey, boys! Slow down, slow down!" She put her hands out to encourage the two to stop, scared to death Jack might trip with the stick she assumed he'd been using as a sword clutched tightly in one of his fists.

"Miss Mina! Sam showed me how to cut somebody's kneecaps!" He reared the stick back and slapped Sam behind the legs with it, and the older boy yelped and hopped away.

"Don't do it to _me,_ Jack! I told you to keep that 'tween us anyhow!" Sam whipped back around to hiss at the younger boy, gingerly curling his legs up one at a time to try and stifle the burn.

Willa snorted, planting her hands on her hips. "Sam, I...Jesus, I'm glad you're makin' friends 'n all, but really? First of all, where you gonna get a real sword to take out somebody's knees with? Second, you gotta _cut,_ not just whack the back of their legs. And _third_ , kneecaps is on the front."

Sam blinked and frowned, reaching up to scratch at where his suspenders were still a bit tight at his shoulder. "I...huh, I guess you're right. Sorry, Miss Willa."

She shook her head, looking back and forth between the two boys. Finally her gaze landed on Sam. "Can I take you out of camp for a bit? I'd like to show you some things, see if you know more'n just whackin' people's knees."

Sam blinked. "Well, okay. W-what do you wanna show me?"

"Well, camp's gonna need food, so you should learn to hunt. And I'd like to teach you some things with that knife. And maybe a gun, unless _Mikey_ already showed you everything you need to know..."

Sam shook his head. "I never shot none of those guns. Some of the older boys did, but..." he shrugged, shoving his hands in his pockets. "They always kinda scared me, I guess..."

Willa nodded. "And they should. But you should know how to use one, all the same. So, let's go learn some things." She nodded her head back toward the hitching posts.

"Can I come? I don't like this place..." Jack looked back and forth between them almost pleadingly, poking that stick down into the dirt between his feet.

Willa sighed and shook her head. "I don't think so, Jack. Your mama would be worried sick, and you ain't old enough to be worryin' about this nonsense anyway. Knowin' how to fight is for old, stupid people, and you ain't either of those things."

Jack's mouth curved down into a frown and he huffed out a plaintive little sigh, letting the stick drop into the dirt. "I guess..."

She grimaced, patting a hand on his shoulder in a gesture meant to try and be reassuring. "You keep practicing with that stick though, huh? Maybe when we get back, Sam can show you some new tricks."

Jack looked back up at her with something of a smile. "Okay!"

"Alright. C'mon then, Sam." She led him back toward where Tulip was hitched up, giving him a hand to help him up into the saddle before mounting up herself.

She chose to head west, away from Roanoke Ridge and back towards the northern reaches of the Heartlands. Safer that way, she figured; away from the Murfrees, and hopefully the Pinkertons as well. They passed down through the base of the Grizzlies, making their way around O'Creagh's Run and then southwards, chatting the whole while.

Willa found it was rather a nice distraction talking to someone whose sole concern wasn't when they were all going to be hunted down and killed, or if they wouldn't all destroy themselves before the Pinkertons even got the chance.

She found out Sam had been on his own for almost two years, and that his parents had emigrated from France just before he was born. They'd both apparently come down with TB, and it was a wonder he hadn't caught it as well. But that had left him alone, with no family and nowhere else to go. So he'd fallen in with the street urchins of St. Denis, playing innocent eyes and ears for Angelo Bronte and picking pockets in the park and in the markets.

"Hey! You there!"

Willa whipped her head towards the right, looking off the road to where that voice had just hailed them from. She saw an older man sitting on the ground propped up against a boulder, and her eyes went momentarily wide. It looked like one of his legs had been torn off at the knee, but there was no blood pooling beneath him.

"Can you help me, miss?"

She guided Tulip off the trail, letting one hand rest close to the pistol at her hip. "What seems to be the trouble, sir?"

The man bowed his head and sighed. "My goddamn horse got spooked and run off."

She furrowed her brows, still wary, casting her gaze down at the man's stump for a few moments. "Are you hurt?" She felt Sam leaning over from behind her, getting his own good look at the stranger.

"Well, not too bad at least...but he took my damn leg!"

Willa's brows went up. "Well that is a...predicament. Which way did he go?"

The man lifted an arm to point past the road, back toward the little lake called O'Creagh's Run. "He went that way, I think. His name's Buell."

"Buell?"

"Second time a prick named Buell cost me a leg...pardon my language."

Willa blinked down at the old man, dropping the reins to reach up and scratch underneath her hat. "Eh...?"

"Buell was my general, when I lost it. Anyway, if you see an angry bastard of a horse, with my wooden leg, well...I'd be real grateful." The man bowed his head, seemingly a bit ashamed at having to submit to asking a stranger for the help.

Willa sighed, glancing over her shoulder at Sam before pulling on the reins to signal Tulip into a turn. "We'll see if we can find him for you. Just uh...stay put, I guess."

The man nodded and grumbled what sounded like a thank you, and she tapped her heels to urge Tulip into a trot to cross the road and head down the hill towards the little lake.

"We're helpin' that fella?" she heard Sam venture from behind her.

"Sure. He seems alright. He could've tried to shoot us both back there, but he didn't. It's good to be suspicious, don't get me wrong. But...I don't know, sometimes it's good to give folks a chance. Ya know how Mr. Morgan and me met?"

"No..."

"I had a bounty on my head, and he was the bounty hunter. He caught me, trussed me all up, was gonna bring me back to the sheriff. Then we got in a shootout, and I helped him and Charles fight off some real nasty men. He still wanted to take me in, but...he trusted me when I told him it was all a mistake." She didn't include the part where she'd paid him the money the bounty was worth, figuring this could maybe turn into some kind of a lesson about trying to see the good in folks.

"He didn't have to, but he gave me a chance. And I owe him a lot for that."

Sam's mouth quirked, and his hands squeezed her waist a little tighter. "Are you gonna get in more shootouts?"

Willa blinked, glancing back over her shoulder. "Well..." she sighed before continuing. "Probably. This gang, they ain't uh...they're a little more serious than those boys you used to run with in St. Denis."

"Oh! Miss Willa, look, down by the water! There's a horse!" Sam's attention was easily diverted as he pointed past her arm toward a beautiful, sandy colored stallion cropping grass down by the shallows of the lake. His coat practically reflected gold in the sunlight, and something told her that he must be Buell.

"C'mon. You take the reins for a bit, okay? Get some practice ridin' a horse while we're out here. Let's see if I can go fetch him." She threw a leg up and over and slid down off the saddle, dropping to the ground and carefully making her way towards the big horse.

He put his head up indignantly, stamping a hoof into the mud and staring her down with one large, icy blue eye. And there was a wooden leg caught in the stirrup just at the joint of the knee, so she knew it must be Buell.

Willa put her hands up, slowing her approach even more. "Hey, there. Buell, right? It's okay. You can't...can't go buckin' a fella like that..." she tried to coo to the stallion, but she stopped in her tracks when he reared up in front of her, whinnying loudly.

"Hey, now!" She glanced backwards, trying to catch Sam's attention. "Hey. Sam. Grab me some oatcakes from the saddlebags?" She returned her gaze to Buell quickly, continuing to hold her hands out even though she had no idea if that would work to placate the beast.

She took a few slow steps backwards, angling one of her hands back by her shoulder without breaking eye contact with Buell as she heard the sounds of rummaging behind her. "Just tap her with your heels. She'll come towards me."

She nodded when she felt the package of oatcakes being placed into her open palm. She lowered the hand, making sure to crinkle the packaging so that the horse could hear it. Maybe she'd get lucky, and he might be a bastard with a predilection for snacks. A small grin crossed her face as Buell angled his head, ears flicking forward as he stared at her.

He took a cautious step forward, and she crinkled the package again. "Yeah, I see. Way to a man's heart is through his stomach, eh? Come here." She held up the oatcakes, slowly removing one from the package and watching as he took a few more steps toward her, stopping only once to shake his head and nicker.

When he was close enough she broke the cake in half, holding it out on her flattened palm. "More where that came from, I promise..."

He lipped up the cake, tail swishing almost happily as she glanced back at Sam. "Pull the reins to the right, and she'll turn around for you. You think you can ride her back up the hill okay?"

"I think so. I just...tap my heels again?"

Willa nodded, pleased the boy seemed to be picking it up quickly. "She'll follow me anyway, but that's right. Nice and easy. I'm gonna try and lead him with the food, and we'll see how it goes."

She held the other half of the oatcake out and started walking, and lo and behold Buell came right along behind her. She couldn't help smirking to herself as they made their way back to the old war vet, Sam on one side of her looking well pleased with himself for riding a horse all by himself and Buell on the other side, stopping indignantly every once in a while until she gave him more pieces of the oatcake.

Willa glanced ahead as they crossed back over the road at the top of the hill, waving a hand at the old man. "We found him!"

The vet propped himself up with his hands, face brightening noticeably at their approach. "Well, ain't you some good folks! Eh..."

"Wilhelmina. And this is Sam. And this is, uh...quite a bastard you got here." She let out a low chuckle as she let Buell lip the last oatcake up from her palm, reaching out to gently run a hand down his flaxen mane. He snorted and sidestepped away from her, causing her to respond with a scowl.

The old man cackled, using the boulder he'd been propped against to lever himself up to his one good foot. "Hamish Sinclair. Yeah, he's a great horse...aside from when the devil's got him. Eh, you wanna hand me that leg there, please? And while you're at it, give old Buell a kick for me, would ya?"

Willa quickly frowned back towards Hamish as she gingerly tried to pry the leg out from where it was hooked over the stirrup.

"Ah, I'm only kiddin'. Thank you..." He reached out to take the leg from her after she'd finally gotten the thing loose and walked over to hand it to him. He bent down to reattach the prosthetic. "Weren't but a snake that spooked him..."

Hamish stood up, flexing with the limb before taking a few steps forward with it. He grabbed for Buell's reins, putting a heavy hand on top of the horse's muzzle. "Ya know, I'm sorry I ain't got much to pay you with..."

Willa shrugged, crossing her arms over her chest.

Hamish hauled himself up into Buell's saddle, situating himself before looking back down at her. "Hey, you and the boy like fishin'? You two could come with me some day, I know some pretty good spots."

She thought about it for a moment. "Well, I ain't ever caught nothin' bigger than a fry, seems like, but the whole reason I brought the boy out this way was to try and teach him some hunting and whatnot. Might be good to have a real experienced teacher sometime."

Hamish laughed and nodded his head. "Well I'm great at both, so between the two of us we'd teach him some things okay. My cabin is right over on the other side of O'Creagh's Run, there. Feel free to stop by some time." He leaned down over Buell's withers then, speaking towards the stallion's ear. "You throw me again you old, dumb bastard..." He shook his head and clicked his teeth, and Buell trotted off like they'd never had an altercation in the first place.

Willa sighed and watched the old fella ride off for a moment before turning back to Sam. "Well, what do you think? You still up for learnin' a thing or two about hunting, or you had it for the day?"

Sam had obliged her, and they spent a few more hours that afternoon hunting some small and easy game; by the end of it they had a few rabbits and several good-sized pheasant strung from Tulip's saddle, and Willa hoped that would be enough to appease Pearson for at least a little while before someone got a chance to hunt down a few deer or a moose.

They made their way back to camp in the evening and Willa sent Sam off to bring their game to the chuck wagon. She saw The Count and Baylock as she hitched Tulip at the posts, but there was no sign of Bob or Llamrei so she could only assume the other two weren't back yet.

Suddenly she heard hoof beats approaching from up the trail, and she whipped around to see Sadie cresting the rise, John in his prison stripes sitting behind her. Arthur followed along close behind them, and she found herself letting out a heavy breath. "You got him!"

Arthur pulled up on Rei's reins to come to a stop beside her, while Sadie continued on into the camp, a pleased little smirk plastered on her face.

"'Course we got 'im." Arthur slid down off the saddle and immediately approached Willa in almost the same step, pulling her by the waist off behind the horses for a bit of privacy. He swiped that cavalry hat off her head and buried his nose in her hair, inhaling deeply. "Bad business though, the whole lot of it. I am mighty glad to see you..."

Her lips parted and she clasped her arms around him tightly, pulling him flush against her. "Glad to see you too, cowboy..."

" _John!"_

Arthur and Wilhelmina were startled out of their moment by Dutch's furious yell from the other side of the camp. "Aw, shit. C'mon..." Arthur turned away from her and grabbed up her hand in his own, leading her towards where Sadie and John had dismounted.

"What are you doin' here!?"

"Good to see you too, partner..." John took a few steps towards Dutch, who stalked by the main campfire stiffly. The two men met in the middle, Abigail standing defiantly beside her newly returned spouse while Micah stood at Dutch's back, leering at the two of them from over his shoulder.

"I _meant_ I hadn't sent for you yet..."

Arthur pulled away from Willa suddenly, walking forward toward the other four stood in the center of camp. "I went."

Dutch's tone lowered ominously as his gaze slid to Arthur. "But I said that-"

"Yeah, I know what you said. I felt different." He sauntered up between Dutch and John, but his shoulders were tense like he was maybe expecting a fight.

Dutch narrowed his eyes at Arthur, an incredulous look passing over his features. "Is that so?"

Arthur finally planted himself squarely in front of Dutch, curling his thumbs over his gun belt and looking at his mentor straight on. "Yes."

Wilhelmina moved back beside Abigail, fists clenching at her sides as she watched the men bristle at each other.

Dutch leaned in slightly. "And when springin' John brings the law down on all of us, _what then, Arthur?"_

"Well then I guess we'll have another fight on our hands..."

"Loyalty, Arthur, it ain't..." Dutch narrowed his eyes, gaze dropping somewhere off behind the man he'd called his son. "I had...a goddamn _plan!"_ His voice rose and cracked as he caught Arthur's eyes again, one of his fists clenching in the air.

Suddenly Dutch flicked his eyes back toward John. "John! John...you are my brother. You are my son. I was coming for you..."

John clenched one of his own fists at his side, taking a step toward Dutch. "They...they was talkin' of hangin' me, Dutch!" Abigail suddenly made to press forward from beside him, and both John and Willa put hands out to stop her.

Dutch's gaze flicked back and forth between them. "They was _talking. They was talking..._ " Dutch spread his hands at his sides, taking a few steps back from the little group gathered in the center of camp. "And now _they_ may come and hang us all..."

Micah stood with his hands curled around his belt, shaking his head at the lot of them with a condescending frown smeared on his face. He took a few steps backwards to follow Dutch, who had turned to storm off back to the privacy of his tent.

They all stood there for a moment before Abigail turned and took John by his arm. Before leading him away, she looked back at Arthur and then Sadie, nodding her head to them both gratefully. "Thank you. Thank you both. C'mon..." She pulled him toward his tent and left the others standing there.

Arthur kicked one of his boots at the ground sullenly and turned away, grumbling. Willa moved towards him, extending a hand to grab his attention. "Arthur, there's somethin' we should talk about..."

He whipped his head up and suddenly snatched her up by her wrist, pulling her off toward the scout fire. "C'mon..."

Willa blinked, stumbling a bit behind him before finding her footing and striding to keep up with him. "Where are we-?"

"I just need some _goddamn space_." He stopped suddenly, like he only just realized he might have been too rough with her. His hand shied away and he looked almost embarrassed as he gazed down at her from under the brim of his old gambler hat. "Please..."

"I..." Her voice trailed off and all she could do was nod, grabbing for his fingers again and letting him lead her down the dirt trail past the scout fire and into the gloom of the forest. It was just about fully dark now, and it took a bit for her eyes to adjust to the lack of light, but she was pretty sure she knew what he was after.

Willa sensed the same coiled tension within him now that she'd sensed that night after he'd gone to rob the poker tournament on that riverboat; he was wound up, still spoiling for a fight, needed to unleash that energy in some sort of a physical way. She wondered at how much pure restraint he'd shown that night she'd thrown herself at him, knowing he was strong enough to take whatever he wanted even if she hadn't been offering it up. But he'd flatly refused, as if it was inconceivable; though admittedly, things were different now.

Suddenly her mind cleared for a moment and she remembered that she'd needed to tell him something. "Arthur, listen, I saw Pinkertons on my way back to camp this morni-"

Willa found the words dying on her lips when he spun her around in front of him and backed her right up against a tree. She could just see the darker line of the trail a ways off behind him; she hadn't even noticed he'd led her off of it and into the forest.

His mouth came down on hers, hot and slick as he begged for entry and wasted no time setting to work at the buttons of her blouse.

She let out a muffled moan against him, not knowing what to do with her hands for a moment. She'd known, or rather had an inclination as to what he wanted, but he was very eager, indeed; almost surprisingly so. She felt the hard line in his trousers pressing against her belly and she instinctively pushed herself forward against him, finally bunching her fingers into the fabric of his shirt right at his waistband and pulling him against her.

He growled into her mouth as she grinded up against him, pulling away only so far as he could mumble out, "don't wanna think 'bout Pinkertons right now...just want _you_...just need...somethin' that actually feels _right_..." He let out a few heavy breaths against her collar as her blouse fell open beneath him, swiftly moving his hands down to unclasp her gun belt and toss it aside on the ground.

Willa exhaled a heavy sigh against the top of his head, nodding her own up and down to encourage him. "Yes..." She felt that heat building up inside the pit of her belly, felt like she'd do just about anything for him after hearing those words tumble from his lips. It _did_ feel right when they were together. Her hands wandered down to his belt, letting it drop around his feet a few moments later before starting at the buttons of his trousers.

Hers were already undone, and she gasped at the touch of his fingers between her legs, snaking in underneath the fabric to paw at her needily. She moaned quietly as his other hand tugged at her waistband, sliding her trousers down her legs as far as he could reach. His palm smoothed up the outside of her thigh and she shivered against him, tilting her head back against the rough bark of the tree as the fingers of his other hand continued their ministrations. "Oh, Jesus..."

Arthur buried his face into the crook of her neck, unable to help bucking his hips against where his hand was stuck between them. He groaned achingly low as he felt the slickness around his fingers, easily slipping two of them inside her as she gasped again just above his ear. His lips cracked into a crooked grin when she bucked her own hips down against his hand. "Oh, that's it. That's a girl..."

She was finally able to gather enough of herself to push his suspenders from his shoulders and work his trousers down, freeing him from where they'd become much too tight. She took him, heavy and hot in her hand, stroking her thumb against him before giving him the friction he so desired.

It was a frenzy for a few more minutes, their rutting and rubbing against each other like two young, foolish lovers just discovering what the sinful things were they could do to each other. Arthur finally pried himself away from her, panting as he knelt down, trailing kisses down her thigh until he hit fabric again.

He reached down to wrap his hands around one of her boots, looking back up at her with hooded eyes to ask her permission. She looked down and gave him a sheepish half-smile, huffing out a little sound of consent. She was still surprised that he'd stop in the middle just to double-check that it was all still okay.

He lifted her foot from the ground and slid the boot off, then moved to do the same with the other. He was back up against her in no time, hot against her belly as his palms smoothed up over the swell of her hips and toward her waist.

She worked at kicking the trousers off her legs, stepping out of them once they'd pooled down around her ankles. The air was cooling off rapidly since night had fallen, and she felt goosebumps breaking out across the sensitive skin, shivering against the heat of Arthur's firm body on one side and the cool, rough bark of the tree behind her.

She reached up to grab his face in her hands, making him look down at her. "Do you want me, Arthur...?"

He swallowed before a throaty "yes" tumbled from his mouth and he was on her again, using one hand to coax one of her thighs up against his waist as he pressed her into that tree. He kissed her again before mumbling it like a mantra against her lips. "Yes..."

She threaded her fingers up into his hair, arching her back and pressing against him. "Then what are you waitin' for...?"

He pulled back, a growl of acknowledgement rumbling through his chest as he leaned down and scooped her up under her butt, leaving her no choice but to squeal and wrap her legs around his waist as he brought her back up against that tree. He cleared his throat thickly, lips brushing against the sensitive spot where her ear met her neck. "Think you'd...be so kind as to lend a hand, sweetheart...?"

She tilted her head back again and muttered some kind of affirmative, tongue darting across her teeth as she brushed her fingers against the length of him once more before curling them around him and helping him line himself up where he needed to be.

She felt all the muscles in his arms tense up, shoulders hunching as he pushed forward, burying himself, pinning her up against that tree with nothing but the strength of his grip holding her up. They both let out sharp breaths at the same time, then his mouth was on hers again as he was moving, rolling his hips into her and pulling hers against his at the same time.

Willa broke the contact to tilt her head back, closing her eyes and groaning as she pulled at his hair. "Christ, you better not ask me if I wanna stop...!"

Arthur erupted in a breathy chuckle, pausing to press his lips to the exposed skin of her neck, mouth hot where there had only been the cool breath of the night air a moment before. She gasped again, clutching at his shoulder with her other hand.

"I love you, you know that? No matter what happens...mmn...!" His brows furrowed as he pulled her against himself particularly roughly, drinking in the sound of her moans just above his ear.

Willa bit her lip, clutching him tightly as he rutted her up into that tree, feeling a flush creep over her as those words spilled from his lips, losing her tight restraint on the traitorous thoughts floating unsaid at the tip of her own tongue. "Tell me you'll run with me! Please...!"

"I will, I will, you _know_ I will...when the time comes..." His fingers dug into the flesh under her thighs as a warning shudder ran through him, hips stuttering once or twice against the heat of her, reveling in the feel of her.

"Ah!" She cried out, throwing her head back against the tree once more as that blinding heat began building at her very core. It bubbled and boiled, simmering up in response to the way only he could touch her.

She kept one hand securely clamped around the back of his neck, snaking the other one down between them to give herself that final little nudge. She knew what that stuttering of his meant, and with the way he was going like a man starved, she wanted to keep up. She lifted her eyes to meet his, pulling his head down for another desperate kiss, tongue tracing against his teeth as he groaned against her.

He pulled back suddenly, glistening with a sheen of sweat in the dim moonlight, hanging his head and nuzzling himself back into the crook of her neck, almost like he was hiding his face from her. "Say it. Say it for me, _please_..."

She gasped again, feeling that euphoric boiling-over sensation, back arching up against him as far as she could go. Between her quiet moans she managed to mutter thickly into his hair, "I love you. I _love_ you, Arthur. Only you. Only you...!"

She felt his shoulders heave and his fingers tightened underneath her with enough force to probably bruise as he let out a shuddering groan against her skin, and she was smacking her head back against the tree, trying to stifle her own moans as his thrusts stilted and became shallower, and a few moments later they were still except for the rapid rising and falling of their chests as they panted in lungfuls of air.

Willa reached up to gently run her fingers back through his hair, pressing her lips against it in between breaths. Finally, he picked his head up and very gently eased her back down to her feet, slipping away from the angelic warmth of her to reach down and tug his pants back up.

She had to lean back against that tree for a minute, feeling like her legs were a bit too wobbly to trust standing on just at the moment. She watched Arthur intently as he crouched quietly in the darkness, picking up her discarded clothing before tapping one of her legs briefly and glancing up at her.

She blinked and tentatively lifted one foot, watching with an odd fluttering in her chest as he gently coaxed one leg of her trousers on over her foot before waiting for her to place that one back on the ground and lift the other. His fingers took hold of either side of the waistband, sliding the pants smoothly upwards in a slow and intimate gesture until she was well clothed again.

When he was standing back at his full height he leaned down to press his lips to her forehead as she did up the buttons on her trousers. She hummed into his chest quietly, leaning forward against him. "What now...?"

"Now we go back. Get some sleep. See what tomorrow brings. I...thank you. For..." Arthur cleared his throat and suddenly shook his head, taking a step back from her so that he could button her blouse back up. He was thankful the darkness would hide the painful blush that had crept onto his cheeks.

She glanced down at his hands for a few moments before looking back up at him, brow knitting as a shadow crossed her weary features. "For what...?"

His jaw worked for a moment before he did up the last button, and suddenly he was turning away and reaching back down to grab their belts up off the ground. "For uh...heh, I don't know. For sayin' you love me, I guess..."

She bent down to yank her boots back on over her pant legs before going to him, placing a hand on his arm as he stood back up. "I said it 'cause I meant it. Not just because you asked me to. Arthur, I...I never thought I'd ever meet somebody like you..."

He glanced over at her out of the corner of his eye, shoulders tensing even as she was complimenting him. She pressed forward, sliding her arms in around his waist. "You are doin' the best that you can with the hand you been dealt. You didn't ask to keep runnin' into somebody like me, havin' to rescue me and...and take care of me. But you _did_."

He shrugged uncomfortably, his eyes focusing away from her. "Anyone could've done that, darlin'..."

"Anyone _could've._ Not many actually would've. You saved me, Arthur..." She reached up to press her fingers to the stubble on his face, bringing his eyes back to her. "Not just from those Lemoyne Raiders, or my goddamn brother...you saved me from myself. From the...the hollowed out, empty _thing_ I was turnin' into..."

He looked down at her, mouth pressing into a firm line.

" _You_ did that. And that...means everything to me."

He was dipping down to catch her lips in a kiss again before she could even say anything else, pulling her in and wrapping her up into the warmth his body so easily seemed to produce. It was slow and deep this time, his attempt at conveying something he didn't think he was able to with words alone. How hopeful she made him feel, how _good_ and somehow right; right in a way he couldn't remember feeling for a very long time.

They headed back up the trail some short time later, shoulders bumping against each other in the darkness as they made their way to his bed. They would sleep together this night and however many nights to come, Dutch and whoever else's opinion be damned.


	26. O'Creagh's Run-Tyrants, Real & Imagined

The most Arthur was able to coax out of Dutch over the course of the following morning was that Leviticus Cornwall was apparently going to be making an appearance in Annesburg in a few days' time to have a look at the mining operation he was purchasing stake in. Dutch had something concocted involving their rich adversary, though he would not - or could not - say exactly what their plan was to be.

This made Arthur nervous, and he was not a man to sit around camp and twiddle his thumbs when tempers were on edge and half the folks agreed that they should have just kept on moving instead of seemingly settling there at the mouth of that godforsaken cave. He'd noticed Strauss slinking out of camp once or twice already, no doubt going off to ply his trade with some more desperate fools willing to agree to any terms for a bit of quick money up front, and that usually meant Dutch was planning on sticking around for at least a few weeks.

While they'd been lying in Arthur's cot that morning, Wilhelmina had finally gotten the chance to tell him in hushed whispers of her run-in with the Pinkertons, and the information Sean had passed along to her about Micah. They had lashed down the canvas of his tent for privacy when they'd returned the night before, but the sturdy fabric didn't protect from anyone nearby overhearing a conversation.

He'd snorted out a heavy breath against the top of her head, fingers stopping where they had been idly rubbing her back just a moment before. " _Micah..._ and you say he's been talkin' to Bill and Javier?" Arthur sighed and shook his head, smoothing his palm down towards the small of her back. "I certainly ain't a fan of how forward that fool's gettin'..."

Willa had glanced up at him from where she was splayed half across his chest. "Bill even came up to me yesterday, lookin' like he was spoilin' for a fight. Told me I was turnin' you _soft_..."

Arthur just let out a low humorless chuckle at that. " _Bill_...I guess I ain't exactly surprised Micah's been whisperin' in _his_ ear. He's always been, I don't know...too eager to follow. I was too, for a long time...despite what Hosea was always tryin' to tell me. Just took me too goddamn long to realize it..."

She'd fallen silent then, unsure of whether to question where he stood now. She knew he wanted to get his people out of there safely, knew his faith in Dutch was waning; that was obvious just based on the altercation they'd had the previous evening when he and Sadie had waltzed back into camp with John in tow. She didn't want to goad him anymore than she already had, especially when he'd told her he'd run away with her. Even if the caveat was _when the time was right._

Now, a few hours later, Willa stood by the cook fire drinking coffee with Mary-Beth, Tilly and Karen. All three of the other girls were uncharacteristically quiet, and she couldn't help but be surprised that not a one of them had started prodding her about her relationship with Arthur. Not that she wasn't grateful, but it certainly seemed...off.

"So, uh...writin' anything interesting lately, Mary-Beth?" She glanced up at the brunette, tapping her nails idly against the tin cup in her hands.

Mary-Beth sighed and shook her head, her gaze falling to the cup in her own hands. "No...can't seem to find much inspiration just lately. Unless I wanted to try at bein' like that Mary Shelley, writin' horror stories...bein' stuck in this place, seems all I've had lately are bad dreams..."

"You and me both, girl..." Karen produced a flask from the pocket of her corduroy jacket, unplugging the top to pour some of its contents into her own cup of coffee.

Willa's brows drew down. She knew all too well how they were feeling, but she didn't mention how she'd woken up in cold sweats multiple times the night before. Even being safe and tucked away in Arthur's tiny cot, it was the first night she'd spent in Beaver Hollow since her brother had caught her, and her attempts at sleep had harbored nothing but nightmares.

"Karen, you really think drinkin' at nine-thirty in the mornin's the best way to handle things? What if the Pinkertons show up?" Tilly rested a hand on her hip, giving Karen a Grimshaw-level look of reproach.

Karen's gaze darted up to meet Tilly's as she pocketed the flask again. "Then at least I'll be drunk for when I die. Sounds a hell of a lot better than havin' to do it sober, Miss Prim 'n Proper!"

Tilly's eyes widened slightly and a small gasp escaped her. "Karen! That's not...I just meant..."

Karen rolled her eyes and took a slug of the coffee. "I know what you meant. You been sayin' it enough for months now! All of you, like a bunch of goddamn broken records. I get it, Karen Jones, camp drunk, rivaled only by Uncle and this one over here." She nodded towards Willa.

The corner of Wilhelmina's mouth twitched. "Yeah, well...all we can do is try to keep it in check. Personally, if those Pinkertons do show up, I'd like to be ready for 'em. I've actually been tryin' to be good for a change...not sayin' it ain't true, just...prefer to _not_ get caught off guard..."

"Well, ain't you just a paragon of excellence-"

Mary-Beth stamped one of her dainty shoes into the ground, letting out something of a squeak in her frustration. "Can we stop this!? Can we just stop snipin' at each other!? The men are bad enough, but do we really have to start fightin' too!?"

Tilly shook her head and drained the last of her cup. "Makes me actually look forward to doin' chores, if all we got to talk about's when we're all gonna get shot to hell and who's gonna be drunk for it and who ain't...what a sorry state we're all in..." She turned away from them then, sloshing out the last dregs of the cup and making her way to the chuck wagon.

Mary-Beth trailed after her, leaving Wilhelmina and Karen staring pointedly away from each other.

Willa sighed and reached up to scratch at the back of her neck underneath where she'd twisted her hair into a thick braid. "I ain't tryin' to pick fights with you...you know that right? I mean Tilly, she's...got a point..."

Karen flicked her gaze back to Willa. "So what? I can't help it if this life...it ain't fun no more, Willa. Things was alright for a while, but it ain't...this ain't how I thought it was gonna turn out..."

Willa looked up, taking a chance at stepping a bit closer to the younger woman and lowering her voice. "Then why're you still here? You and Sean should go, while you still got the chance. Go and start over somewhere, Karen..."

Karen sneered, eyes searching Wilhelmina's. Slowly, the curve of her painted lips evened out into a flat line as she realized the other woman was serious. She replied in an equally low hiss, "and go _where?_ I ain't got nothin'. And Sean...Jesus, don't even get me started. It ain't like we're jumpin' the gun to go 'n get hitched. He's...he's a goddamn _fool,_ just like all the men here. But I can't...I don't know, I just can't, Willa. I ain't like you..."

Wilhelmina frowned. "Karen, I was alone for _years,_ and it weren't by choice. After what my brother did to me, I was goddamn terrified of ever lettin' _anybody_ get close. I may put off a good cover, but that's all it is. And now that I've met all of you, I...I wanna help you. _All_ of you. And _I_ want a chance to start over. And I don't know what Dutch has got cooked up, but...if you wanna survive, I'd set my sights on somewhere that ain't Tahiti..."

Karen brought her cup to her lips, considering Willa for a while before taking a long drink from it. "I'll...think about it, I guess. Anyway, I got chores to do. Don't need Grimshaw breathin' down my goddamn neck too..." She hastily met Willa's eyes once more before ducking away and heading for the wash bins.

Willa breathed out a heavy sigh, taking one last long sip of her coffee before sloshing the remainder onto the ground. She walked a few feet and plopped down onto a stump, setting the cup on the ground so she could rummage in her satchel for her pouch of rolling tobacco.

She saw two small pairs of feet approaching a few moments later and glanced up from the half-rolled cigarette to see Sam and Jack ambling over to her.

Sam had his hands clasped behind his back. "Mornin', Miss Willa. We was wonderin'...well, we didn't really wanna ask Miss Abigail 'cause she'd probably say no, but-"

"Can we go in the cave and play with the skulls!?" Jack's eyes went wide as the question tumbled from his mouth. He seemed unreasonably excited at such a prospect, and Willa found herself at a loss for words.

"I..." She blinked, looking back and forth between the two of them before bringing the cigarette up to lick the paper and seal it shut. Her eyes narrowed. Finally she huffed out a sigh and stood, sticking the cigarette between her lips. "Alright, but _don't_ tell your ma and pa about this, you hear me?"

Realistically, this might give her a good opportunity to go look for her brother's money. If he hadn't come back to try and claim it yet, chances were he had it with him somewhere, but it couldn't hurt to check.

"Yess!" Jack stomped his feet into the dirt.

Sam let out a victorious little snort, poking the younger boy playfully in the shoulder. "I _told_ you she'd let us!"

" _Miss Thorne!"_

Willa gasped and fumbled for the cigarette as it fell from her lips. She whipped her head over to see Arthur ambling up from the center of camp, one hand resting over the holster at his hip. "Do not take those boys into the cave to play with skulls! You lost your damn mind!?"

She could feel herself blanching. "I...well...ain't like I _offered!_ They just came right up and asked!"

He stopped in front of her, rolling his eyes about a mile before plucking the cigarette from her hand and sticking it between his own lips. He retrieved a match and lit it with a little flourish of his thumb, casting his gaze down at the two boys. "Sorry fellas, you ain't goin' in there. Even with a very pretty lady accompanyin' you. It ain't safe."

She couldn't help feeling something of a wave of relief washing over her. The actual thought of going back into that cave to poke around made her feel queasy. Maybe once more time had passed she'd pluck up the courage, but just then she was actually thankful Arthur had overheard them and put a stop to it.

"But Uncle Arthur...!" Jack looked up at him with puppy dog eyes, kneading his hands in front of himself.

"No buts. Go feed the horses if you're feelin' antsy. Just make sure Kieran's there wit' you. Or go find Cain, play with somethin' that's actually livin'." Arthur squinted down at the boy through the smoke from the cigarette, making it clear he would brook no more argument.

Jack huffed and kicked at the dirt. "C'mon, Sam!"

Sam just shrugged his shoulders and trailed after the younger boy. "Maybe Cain'll dig up some bones...?"

Arthur side-eyed the two boys as they walked away. "Don't you two play wit' anything that dog digs up, neither! _Jesus_..."

Willa snorted out a little laugh, taking a step closer and reaching up to pluck the cigarette from his lips so that she could take a puff. "Give 'em a break. Wasn't it _you_ told me you was helpin' some professor lady who was diggin' for bones?"

"That ain't the same thing..." Arthur crossed his arms and looked down at her smugly.

She replied with a smug smile of her own, taking one more drag before handing the cigarette back to him. "So, uh...any orders from Old Boss van der Linde?"

Arthur's mouth thinned out as he took the cigarette back from her and he shook his head curtly. "Nah. Somethin' about Cornwall comin' into Annesburg in a few days, but..." He shrugged uncomfortably. "Couldn't get much else out of 'im."

"Hm. Well, uh...ya know, I took Sam out of camp yesterday before you got back, to show him a bit about how to hunt and whatnot. We ran into a fella, got bucked by his horse. Anyway, we helped him out a bit and he invited us to visit with him at his cabin over at O'Creagh's Run. Would you...wanna go? Seems like an interesting fella. I think you'd like him..."

Arthur blinked, smoke pluming from between his lips as he looked down at her appraisingly. "Well, I can't rightly let you run off wit' some strange fella out in the middle of the woods. But, uh...this ain't gonna end like how it did wit' that old fool Bullard, is it?"

Willa scrunched her face up. "Shit, I hope not. All he wanted to do was go fishin'..."

Arthur sighed, handing the cigarette back to her before planting his hands on his hips and casting his gaze around. "I suppose. If I stay 'round here too much longer I might drive myself goddamn crazy, so why not..."

She smiled as she took a puff, placing her free palm against the solid muscle of his chest. "Good. 'Cause, you never know, I might've run off with that fella..."

His mouth quirked and he looked down at her as she slid her hand away, turning away from him to throw the stub of the cigarette into the fire.

She glanced back. "I am jokin'. Just so you know."

Arthur chuckled nervously, reaching up to scratch the back of his neck. The looming threat still lingered in his mind that she would grow to find him distasteful, lacking in so many fundamental ways, just as Mary had. Just as Eliza had, though she had never truly taken much time to try and get to know him; and he didn't blame her. "Right. 'Course."

Willa took a few steps back towards him. "We ain't...still keepin' this a secret anymore, right? I mean everybody pretty much knows..."

He cocked an eyebrow, not really expecting such a question. "Well, no. No, I guess not. Why-?"

She leaned up and curled her hand around the back of his neck, pulling him in for a firm, reassuring kiss. "I _want_ you to come. Like I said, I think you'll like him..."

He cleared his throat, a little blush creeping up onto his bearded cheeks. "Well...okay. Let's...go fishin' wit' this fella, then."

She smiled again. "Good. You collect the kid, I'll go get my things."

They met over by the horses about fifteen minutes later, and Arthur helped Sam up onto Tulip's saddle while Wilhelmina packed her tent and her bedroll into the saddlebags. They mounted up and headed west down through the ravine, keeping to the same trails Willa and Sam had ridden the previous day.

They made good time, approaching the small lake well before noon had even come and gone, and Willa pointed out ahead when she saw the little cabin nestled in at the lakeside. "I think that must be it."

They brought the horses closer, and she could see Buell in all his haughty glory tethered up at a little hitching post just out front. They dismounted and hitched the horses on some nearby trees where there was plenty of grass to crop, and Willa made her way up the wooden porch steps to the front door.

She reached out and knocked a few times, and was greeted shortly thereafter with the reply, "the door's open!"

She glanced back at Sam and Arthur and quirked her mouth up in that half-smile he liked before turning the door handle and taking a step inside. "Mr. Sinclair?"

The old vet looked up from where he was sat at his small table, eyes widening slightly in surprise. "Oh, Wilhelmina! By God, I weren't expectin' you two to actually turn up..."

She stepped aside, allowing Sam to come in beside her and then Arthur's frame blocked a good bit of light from the doorway as he took a step in to get a look at the fella Willa said they'd helped.

"Uh, Mr. Sinclair, I hope you don't mind, I've brought a friend..."

Hamish pushed himself to his feet, taking a few steps over to shake Arthur's hand. "Hamish Sinclair."

Arthur tipped his head in greeting, returning the vet's firm handshake. "Arthur Morgan. I uh...heard these two helped you out of a spot of trouble yesterday?"

Hamish nodded, reaching up to scoop the fawn-colored wide-brim hat from his head. "Well, they sure did. That smug bastard of a horse outside got spooked by a snake, threw me and run off with my old leg..." He paused to lean down and tap the fingers of his free hand against the jointed wood beneath his knee. "These two come along and fetched him for me."

Arthur's eyebrows went up and he glanced back between the other two. "That's quite a story. Well, I heard there might be some fishin' to be had out here. That true?"

"Oh, it's very true! Don't take much persuadin' to get me to go fishin'. Let's go in my boat." Hamish planted the hat back on top of his head and extended a hand towards the door.

The four of them descended the porch steps and made their way back outside. Willa and Arthur swung by where the horses were tethered to grab their fishing poles, and soon they were all cozied up in Hamish's sturdy little skiff, Arthur taking a seat in the center so that he could row them out into the lake. Willa and Sam took the seat at the stern of the boat, while Hamish took the seat at the bow.

Arthur glanced up as he rowed, asking "so, what we fishin' for?"

Hamish looked back over his shoulder. "Only one thing worth fishin' for in this lake...the great tyrant. Mean as hell northern pike. Eats everything else that spawns around here, it's own kind included..."

Sam's eyes went wide at that, and he began wringing his hands together between his legs. "I don't, uh...that sounds...I don't know if I want to learn to fish for a t-tyrant..."

Hamish chuckled as he produced a few hand-made lures from the pocket of his jacket. "No, we'll start you out with somethin' a little less fearsome, son. I think Mr. Morgan here might be able to handle the tyrant, but that ain't a fight for one so young as yourself."

Willa looked down and gave him a reassuring little smile. "I'll show you how to use my rod. We'll let the big men try for the big fish, huh?"

Sam nodded, looking a little less yellow than he had a few seconds before. "Okay."

Willa squinted up at the sky as Arthur rowed them out to the spot Hamish seemed sure would produce for them. There were a few wispy clouds scuttling across the expanse above them, but mostly it was clear blue and full, brilliant sun. It was warm out there, and she took the opportunity to lean back against the stern of the skiff, extending her arms out to her sides to soak up some of that sunlight.

Hamish spoke up from the bow once they'd made their way down along the shoreline a ways. "Right here. We'll cast off toward the island. Miss Wilhelmina, you can have Sam there cast over towards shore so we don't tangle any lines."

Willa set to work showing Sam how to piece the pole together and attach bait to the line, smiling to herself at the easy conversation Arthur was striking up with the old vet. She was glad she'd asked him to come along, and though she couldn't quite explain what had led her to believe it, she somehow knew that he would take a shine to the way Hamish seemed so effortlessly candid and comfortable in his own skin, despite having what many would consider to be a handicap.

The two men talked at length about the lures Hamish had fashioned for the sole purpose of catching that great pike, Arthur glancing behind every so often to see how Willa and Sam were getting on.

She showed the boy how to cast, and then took a seat so that he could put the information into practice, reminding him to be careful not to hook the two men while he was at it. "Good cast! Now, what you wanna do is reel the line in nice and steady. Keep that bait movin' so it gives 'em somethin' to chase after. You can even jerk the rod once or twice so it looks like it's wounded, ya know? Real enticing stuff for a fish..."

Arthur let out a little snort at her description, glancing back again to try and catch her eye as he worked at reeling his own line in. She caught his gaze and the corner of her mouth turned up in a mirthful little smirk. She reached out and pushed him playfully on the hip. "What?"

Arthur chuckled and shook his head. "Nothin'. You're a real fine teacher, Miss Thorne."

"Hey-!" Sam yanked the pole upwards as he felt a sharp tug on the line, whipping his head to look at Willa for help. "I think I - AAHH!!"

They all heard the whirring of his line being quickly drawn out of the spool, and all of a sudden he was being pulled bodily to the edge of the boat.

Willa was on her feet in a heartbeat, grabbing at his shoulders and trying to pull him back before he flipped right over the edge.

Hamish turned around with wide eyes, cursing as he quickly tried to reel his own line back in. "Ah, hellfire! Did the boy hook 'im!?"

"Just about! Hold on, kid!" Arthur yanked the rest of his own line right up out of the water and dropped his gear in the bottom of the boat, turning to reach over the boy's shoulders and relieve him of the pole before that fish had its way with him.

Willa pulled Sam back into the stern to sit beside her, checking to make sure he was okay while Arthur tried to squarely plant his feet and set the bail on the line so the tyrant couldn't take any more of it out. The fish had a mighty pull all right, but Arthur was a formidable opponent.

Wilhelmina and Sam sat in stunned silence as Arthur wrestled with the huge fish, but Hamish came right up to his side, blurting out all kinds of advice in his excitement over the potential of finally catching the wily old jack. "Let's land the bastard! Easy, _easy!_ You'll snap the line, you reel while he's fightin' like that!"

After a good ten or fifteen minutes of Arthur struggling and Hamish aggressively barking out advice, the two men were finally pulling the pike up out of the water and letting it slither into the bottom of the boat, slapping its tail fin sharply against the wood.

Arthur took a seat in the center of the boat, letting his hands dangle between his legs as he panted and looked down at the monster of a fish; it had to be a good three to four feet long, and Willa couldn't even guess at how much the thing weighed.

Sam looked down at it with saucer eyes, gingerly reaching out to touch it with the tip of his shoe as he wheezed, "holy shit...!"

Hamish dropped to his knees, suddenly whipping his revolver out of its holster and using the butt of it to beat the fish as it continued to flop at the bottom of the boat. "Damn you, tyrant!"

When it was finally still, the vet fell back against the side of the boat, letting out a victorious whoop into the air. "Ahh...you caught him!"

Arthur gave a shallow nod, staring down at the massive dead fish. "I guess we did..."

"Can...um, can we go back...?" Sam looked up between the other three, looking a little yellow again. He'd had the wind knocked out of him when the fish had pulled on his line, and he was trying very hard not to let tears fall at the pain he was feeling in his ribs.

Arthur blinked after a moment and seemed to find himself. "'Course. Good job, kid. You did good holdin' onto 'im." He reached out and grabbed the oars, turning the boat so they could head back to the dock.

Hamish gave the boy a clap on the shoulder before settling back to his seat at the bow. "Real nice work, the both of you."

Once they were back at the dock, Hamish reached out to grab one of the pilings and pull them in close so that Willa and Sam could climb out. "Say, think I'd like to keep the old bastard, mount him up on the wall...that is, if you don't want him?" He glanced over at Arthur.

Arthur chuckled and shook his head. "Oh, I ain't gonna poach from your pond."

The vet nodded briefly, then turned to look up at Sam and Wilhelmina again. "If you three wanted to stick around and stay for supper then, we could head back out to catch a few more of his less impressive kin...they do make for good eatin'."

Arthur looked up at the other two, raising his eyebrows and shrugging his shoulders.

Sam was rubbing a palm against the bottom of his sternum tenderly, but he nodded his head. Willa put a hand on her hip, meeting Hamish's eyes. "That sounds real fine. Here, let me take that tyrant back to the house for you, then."

Hamish kneeled forward into the boat, grabbing up the monstrous fish and groaning as he stood back up a little unsteadily to pass it up to her. "While we're gone, there's a garden out to the side of the house. Go and pick any vegetables you wanna cook."

She smiled and nodded, mouth faltering slightly a moment later as the fish slipped and slid in her arms. The thing was slimy, and she couldn't help grimacing and nodding curtly before turning and making her way rather hurriedly for the house. Sam gave the men a wave before turning and trailing along behind her.

Arthur couldn't help chuckling as Hamish pushed against the edge of the dock to set them back adrift. He picked the oars up once more to row them out, falling into a bit of contemplative silence.

Hamish spoke up once they were back out near the little island in the center of the lake. "So what do you do, Arthur?"

Arthur cleared his throat as he knelt forward to retrieve his pole from the bottom of the boat. "Me...? Ah, I'm a wanderer. I was born further north, but I spent a lot of time out west..."

Hamish glanced over and nodded as he retrieved his own pole, unhooking the lure from where he'd secured it over one of the guides.

Arthur's mouth quirked as he stood back up, holding the pole away from where Hamish stood so that he could reel all that extra line in before casting out. "Funny...I never saw myself as a wanderin' man, 'til real recently. Always seemed to find some other, nobler-soundin' name to call it by. Some excuse, I guess. Used it as a real easy way to run from things for a lot of years..."

Hamish cocked a silvery eyebrow at the younger man, sucking his teeth for a moment before swinging the pole over his shoulder to cast it. "Well, that's quite a little family you got back there. Seems like a hell of a good reason to stop wanderin'..."

Arthur flicked his gaze at the old vet before casting out his own line off the other end of the boat. "Oh, it's not...I mean it's...complicated. The boy, he ain't ours. More of a...rescue. And a real recent one at that. Whole thing's... _real_ recent..."

"Two of you ain't married, then?" Hamish kept an eye on his line as he slowly reeled it in.

Arthur's brows furrowed as he glanced over toward the shore, catching sight of Willa and Sam off to the side of the house, presumably picking the vegetables to eat with their dinner. "No..."

 _Quite a little family_. Arthur felt his chest tightening as he watched the two of them off on the shore. All of a sudden he had the overwhelming sensation of how very _domestic_ the whole thing was. He swallowed thickly as his vision seemed to flash, and suddenly he could very easily see Eliza and Isaac there in the distance, working in the dirt at picking out the side dishes for their supper.

"Eh, no judgment from me, mind. I was never one for all that stiffness and social etiquette and whatever other horse hockey the bourgeoisie come up with to make life more complicated for folk. Think that's why she caught my eye." Hamish paused, glancing over at Arthur again. "Seems like quite a fine woman. None of that pageantry you see in them dainty city girls. Nothin' but brass tacks."

Arthur blinked and looked back over at Hamish, finally startled out of his own mercurial thoughts. "No. No, she most certainly ain't a city girl. Born 'n raised up in the Poconos, she was. She's..." He cleared his throat and looked back to his line as he reeled the lure back up with nothing to show, starting to work at getting it ready to cast back out. "She's pretty goddamn amazing, actually..."

Hamish snickered a bit, but he cut himself off with a little yelp as he got a bite on his own line. "Ahh, come here, fish!"

"So...it's alright then, is it? Livin' out here, away from civilization..."

"Hah! Civilization...yeah, I saw what civilization and industrial advancement will get you in the war. Progress, well...it ain't always progress." Hamish huffed and angled the pole to his right, leading the fish as it fought him at the other end of the line. "Yeah, I got the whole of nature up here...and I'm gonna make the most of it, as long as there still is some."

Arthur only nodded in reply, finally feeling a tug on his own line and waiting a moment before jerking it back towards him to make sure the fish was on the hook. There were all kinds of thoughts swirling in his head now, creating a veritable storm within his mind; relinquishing the title of 'wanderer' (or extremely dangerous wanted criminal, if he were to be completely honest with himself), finding a spot far out in the woods not unlike this one to settle down with her, having a garden, or a farm, or a ranch, having an honest to God _home._ Was it possible? Could he be that man?

They ate well that night, Hamish having expertly filleted the flaky white meat from the bones of the three smaller pike he and Arthur had caught while Willa boiled a pot of potatoes and corn over the fire. She had even retrieved her father's banjo from Tulip's saddle to play for them for a little while. As it grew late unexpectedly quickly, Hamish invited Sam to sleep with a bedroll on the floor inside while Willa and Arthur opted to sleep out in one of their tents rather than ride back to Beaver Hollow in the dark.

They made sure to thank Hamish for his hospitality again before retiring for the night. Unbeknownst to either of them, neither one could seem to get any sleep, though. They both laid there tossing and turning, feigning sleep for a good long while before Wilhelmina finally crept to her knees with a quiet huff and crawled as carefully as she could out of the tent.

Arthur remained where he was, figuring she'd only gotten up to go relieve herself, but after a solid fifteen minutes he began to get rather worried. He sat himself up, pushing off the blankets they'd buried themselves under and crawled out of the tent.

He saw her almost immediately; the moon was just about full in the sky, and it cast an ethereal glow over O'Creagh's Run that Arthur absently wished he could somehow capture in a drawing. He tried to commit it to memory, though he was dubious of how such a sketch would ever convey the feeling the scene elicited within him. She was sitting at the edge of the dock with her legs over the edge, presumably with her feet in the water, silhouetted in the silvery light.

Arthur scratched at the short growth of beard on his chin as he made his way over, unable to help a large yawn escaping. He heard her gasp and saw her whip around at the sound as he stepped down onto the little wooden landing. She inhaled a sharp breath before placing a hand on her chest and sniffling. "Jesus, Arthur..."

He put his hands out in a placating gesture, keeping his voice low. "Sorry, don't mean to spook you...can't sleep?"

He blinked as he squatted down beside her, hearing the little sniffle and realizing that her cheeks were moist. Arthur knit his brows, levering himself down so that he was sitting on the dock beside her and placing a warm hand at the small of her back. "Sweetheart, why you out here cryin'...?"

Willa sniffled again, looking away from him and taking a drag from the cigarette she held in one trembling hand. A watery little scoff escaped her as she gazed out over the lake. "I'm sorry. It's stupid. I just, uh...this place, it reminds me of home. And Hamish, he reminds me of my father...grizzled old war vet, you know...?"

Arthur sighed and curled his hand up around her shoulder, pulling her in against his chest.

"And...and thinkin' about that made me think of Hosea and Bessie...and thinkin' about _that_ made me think of Lenny..." She reached up to wipe at her cheeks with the heel of her hand, leaning into Arthur's chest. "I miss them, Arthur...every single one of 'em...every day it _hurts_..."

"I know. If your father was like old Hamish up there, well, I wish I could've met him..." Arthur leaned down to press his lips to the top of her head. "'Specially since I know what a good girl he raised...be nice if I could thank 'im..."

She inhaled a trembling breath, angling herself so she could bury her face in against his shoulder as a wave of fresh tears formed behind her eyes. "He would've loved you..."

He let out a soft chuckle, running his palm up and down along the outside of her arm. "Now, that's the first time anybody's ever said that..."

"It's true," came the muffled reply from down by his armpit. "He would've seen what I see...what Hosea always saw. He would've seen a good man..."

Arthur exhaled a heavy sigh, shaking his head and looking out at the moonlight shimmering over the surface of the water. "No, I ain't good, Willa. I...I don't know, maybe some day I could be, but...reckon I never thought I'd actually get the chance." His mouth curled down and he wondered briefly if he should tell her about his own troubles. It sounded like something someone else might think was crazy, but there he'd been practically hallucinating back in that boat, and it was stinging him with both grief and regret at even having thought it.

"I uh...I saw you 'n Sam out in the garden when we was back out on the lake earlier. And...for a second, all I could see was...was Eliza 'n Isaac..."

She lifted her head from his shoulder, hissing as the stub of the cigarette she'd forgotten about began to burn between her fingers. She hastily tossed it into the water, clenching her fist and sitting back up before looking over at him.

Arthur cleared his throat awkwardly, drawing his knees up so that he could rest his arms atop them. "It...scared me, in all kinds of ways. Scared that I was lookin' at you, but thinkin' about them. Scared that they was just there to remind me I _shouldn't_ be thinkin' about you the way I do. Scared to...to try and make the life they should've had. Scared that if I don't, I'll go and get myself killed or lose you, and that'd be one and the same, really..."

Willa swallowed a lump in her throat, sniffling again and curling her legs up out of the water to angle herself back towards him. "Arthur..." She placed both hands on his forearm, tilting her head to look at him. "I'm sorry if I...if I made it scary for you to think about them. I-"

"No, no. It ain't about that. It's all..." He huffed out a breath and raised his other hand to motion vaguely towards his own head. "Just...feel like I don't deserve it. A house, or a homestead, or a wife, or an adopted son, feels like it...I don't know, like it'd be too easy, I guess. Like I can't...like I _shouldn't_ have it that easy..."

"It ain't gonna be easy, Arthur. But is...is that what you want...? A broken wife and an adopted street urchin?" Her mouth curled up in a cynical little half-smirk.

Arthur's brow knitted and his gaze flicked back down to her. "...Maybe."

She let out a little snort and buried her face into his bicep, curling her arms up around it. "Then I think they won't hold it against you, if you wanna try for that. Everyone deserves a second chance..."

She was silent for a few moments before she sniffled faintly again and raised her head up to catch his gaze. "We ain't given nothin' in this world but time, Arthur. And what we choose to do with it. And who we choose to spend it with. And even then...you never know when you ain't gonna have it anymore." She raised a hand to cradle his cheek, brushing her thumb against that scar that ran across his chin. "I love you. And I want to spend as much of my time with you as I can. And...and that boy deserves to have people in his life to care for him. Just like you did..."

Arthur swallowed thickly, clearing his throat and breaking his gaze away to look down between his legs. It hadn't really occurred to him that Sam was in almost exactly the same position he'd been in when he was only a year or two older. How had that never occurred to him? A fresh wave of guilt tried to sweep across him then and he had to consciously try to muscle it back. Feeling guilty all those years had gotten him nowhere. Living with one foot always in the past had gotten him nowhere.

She squeezed his arm gently, sitting up on her knees and leaning in to press a kiss against his scruffy cheek. "It's okay to be scared. I'm absolutely goddamn terrified..."

He snorted a bit at that, closing his eyes and leaning into her touch. "Well, least we can be terrified together, I guess..."

"Whatever happens, we'll do it together. I can't...can't really picture my life without you in it anymore, Arthur...it doesn't make sense without you."

His jaw worked in the silvery moonlight as he looked back up at her, considering for a few moments. "Yeah, I know what you mean...and I also know you still ain't broken..." He nudged her with his shoulder pointedly.

She straightened up again, reaching down into her satchel to grab her tobacco. "And I know you got the agency to choose what you wanna do with your time." Her eyes flicked back to him briefly before returning to her hands as she focused on sprinkling the dried leaves in a little line down the length of a rolling paper. "You really wanna be fightin' with _Micah_ over a position in a gang that might not even exist anymore in a month's time...?"

He sighed and shook his head. "Hell no. Just wish there was somethin' I could do to get through to Dutch, make him see how things has changed. But I'm afraid he's just...becomin' more of who he's always been..."

She rolled the cigarette paper between her fingers before bringing it up to lick it and seal it shut. She stuck it between her lips and crawled over to the edge of the dock, clambering down gently into Hamish's skiff. She settled herself there and reached an arm out for him. "Come on. Come look at the stars with me..."

His brows went up for a moment before he let out a little scoff and shook his head as he levered himself up onto a knee. He crawled down into the boat beside her, settling his back against the stern before motioning for her with his hands.

She crawled over and turned, settling between his legs and reclining back against his chest. She fished for a box of matches in her pocket to light the cigarette, inhaling a few slow drags before holding it up for him to take.

They stayed that way, looking up at the stars and contemplating the trials of their own existence until the cigarette they'd shared was long extinguished in the waters of the lake, and they had fallen asleep together curled up in the bottom of Hamish Sinclair's sturdy little skiff.


	27. Beaver Hollow - Old Friends and New

Two days later, Arthur returned from Annesburg an hour or so after Micah and Dutch, emanating an entirely different mood than the other two had when they'd happily trotted in. He'd slept in with Willa for a while that morning (which, in hindsight, was probably one of the many factors that had gotten him into this goddamn pissing contest with Micah in the first place), ridden off to meet them in Annesburg later to do whatever the hell it was with Cornwall, and come back an absolute silent, seething mess.

Everything that could have gone wrong in that dirty little town absolutely did, aside from all three of them getting killed. Arthur didn't even know how they _hadn't_ gotten killed, and found himself falling back into the old habit of thinking it really may not have been so bad of a thing if they had. It would probably save a lot of folks a lot of trouble in the end.

He wished he'd known what Dutch was planning on doing, but he'd had no idea until suddenly the gun was raised and Dutch was pulling the trigger. He'd killed Cornwall in cold blood, then tried to twist it with pretty words; the old rhetoric he'd been so fond of all these years spun into something dark and savage about tyrannical, power-hungry men taking advantage of the weak and being served their due justice. All while they were shooting their way through Milton's Pinkerton friends, and Arthur simply could not believe he'd been reprimanded for going to break Marston out of Sisika just for _this_ to happen.

Wilhelmina was throwing knives with Sadie just outside of camp, talking with her about the whole business of Colm O'Driscoll's imminent hanging down in St. Denis just before Arthur rode in.

"And that's happenin' tomorrow?" She quirked an eyebrow, glancing over at the blonde woman before her focus returned to the tree they'd been filleting for about an hour now.

"Yep. I've already spoken to Dutch about it. He agrees. We need to head down there, make sure the bastard swings. I even suggested _you_ should go with us..." Sadie turned her head to spit into the dirt, hands firmly clasped around her gun belt.

Willa let fly with the narrow blade, watching it turn end over end before it embedded itself into the bark of the tree with a solid thud. She sighed, letting one hand rest on the holster at her hip. "Why? For what they did to Arthur? _He_ ain't even gonna want to go, Sadie. You know he ain't in this for revenge. Anyway, it's too dangerous for them to be goin' back into that city."

Sadie let out an indignant little snort and looked up at Willa from under the brim of her hat, eyes glinting with dark intent. "Oh, he'll go. You know he will. He may gripe about it, but he'll do it for me. And for Dutch. And he probably won't admit it, but he'll be doin' it for himself, too. And with them waltzin' into the city in some kind of disguise, two women along with 'em, it'll be a hell of a lot less conspicuous."

Willa rolled her eyes. "I know I said I'd help you with the O'Driscolls, but this ain't what I meant. We should be focusing on things that's actually gonna help this camp, Sadie!"

The other woman lifted a finger, pointing it at her. "This _is_ helpin'. Colm's been nothin' but a thorn in their side for who knows how long!" Sadie looked away then, mouth curling into a grimace as she paused. "Please. I _need_ this, Willa..."

Willa threw her hands up, shaking her head incredulously. "Goddamnit, Sadie. Fine...fine. I'll go."

Sadie's eyes returned to her then. "Good. And just know, when and if your brother turns up, he ain't only gonna be meetin' _your_ gun. We help each other. Right?"

Willa raised her gaze to meet Sadie's, considering for a moment before giving her a shallow nod. "Right..."

Sadie whipped her head around at the sound of Javier's voice from off up the dirt trail, inquiring as to who was coming into their camp. They both heard Arthur's curt response, and soon his head was visible from over the little rise as Llamrei carried him up and over the shallow hill.

Willa gave Sadie a nod and walked over to the hitching posts to meet him. He guided Rei over, head tipped down, the only visible feature beneath his hat being a frown of consternation. "Arthur!" She faltered slightly, suddenly feeling the intense anger positively rolling off his rigid form as he slid down off the saddle. "What...what happened in Annesburg?"

He looped Rei's reins over the hitching post and finally met her gaze, looking drawn and downright stoic. "I don't know. Dutch has lost his goddamn mind..."

Her brows furrowed and she caught him, pulling him back to face her as he made to walk away in a huff. "What the hell does that mean!?"

Arthur hissed, trying to keep his voice low and not doing a very good job. " _He killed 'im!_ The crazy bastard shot Cornwall dead right in the middle of the goddamn town, right in the middle of a bunch of _goddamn Pinkertons!"_

Willa's jaw hinged open, her hand falling away from where she'd grabbed his arm. "You're kiddin', right...?"

Arthur sucked in a heavy breath, casting his gaze down. "I wish I was...him 'n _Micah_ , they's so busy makin' plans together now they don't even see the goddamn trouble they're gettin' us into. All Dutch has to say for 'imself is 'noise! We need to make noise, Arthur!' And _he_ lost it at _me_ for goin' to get _Marston_!" He let out a frustrated grunt at the irony of it all, waving his hand at nothing in particular.

Will chewed her lip for a minute, getting angrier by the second. "Yeah, well that's what he got, didn't he? _Noise_...Jesus Christ, Arthur, how the hell am I supposed to ride into St. Denis with the three of you knowin' _that_!?"

His brows drew down again and he whipped his head back up to question her. "What the hell we goin' to St. Denis for!?"

"For Colm O'Driscoll's hangin'. Apparently it's tomorrow, and the two of us have been...invited."

"Ah, Hell. So she went and told Dutch about that, did she?" His eyes flicked over to where Sadie was currently yanking out all the throwing knives from that tree a ways back from the trail.

"Yeah. She sure did."

Arthur rolled his eyes, crossing his arms as he kicked into the dirt with the toe of his boot. " _Shit..."_

"Shit is right. I'm worried about her, Arthur. I don't know which of 'em it is that's eggin' the other one on, but Sadie is goddamn _eager_ to get down there and see that greasy bastard swing. And I don't blame her, but...but I know how she is..."

Arthur met her gaze again, nodding as his voice lowered. "Yes...she's like goddamn dynamite once she gets goin'. Damn near impossible to stop. So...we'll just have to keep an eye on her, is all. Dutch certainly can't be trusted to stop her from doin' nothin' crazy..."

"Obviously not."

Arthur sighed and reached up to tip his hat forward so he could scratch at the back of his head. "As much as I loathe the thought right now, I guess I got to go speak wit' him about all this..."

She placed a gentle hand on his arm again before he could walk away from her, gaze softening. "Look, maybe this ain't the worst time. Might be good for you to stay out of New Hanover for a few days. Away from Annesburg."

Arthur rolled his eyes again, albeit a bit gentler this time. He had to admit that she had a point. "Maybe...ain't gonna have much of a choice in the matter anyways..." He scooped her hand up from where it sat on his arm, planting a little kiss against her knuckles before he was striding away from her toward the cave.

She watched him, some little quip about how he always had a choice dying in the back of her throat before she could voice it. She sighed, fists clenching at her sides. "Shit..."

Willa heard crunching footsteps behind her and turned to see Javier descending the hill to make his way to the other side of the camp, rifle held close to his chest. She dipped her head in greeting, but all she received in return was a scowl. "Javier..."

Javier paused to retrieve the stub of a cigarette from between his lips and throw it off to the side, barely gracing her with a glance. "Wilhelmina."

She chewed her lip for a moment before approaching him, planting her hands on her hips. They had been friendly at one point, and it irked her to know Micah had been talking to him behind her back. "Ya know...we ain't talked much, since you boys got back from Guarma. Everything alright with you?"

He shrugged, still refusing to meet her eyes. "Everything's just fine with me. Though, I can't help wondering how things are with Arthur...?" Finally his deep brown eyes rose to meet hers, a little sneer forming at the corner of his mouth. "Since it seems like his loyalty is...shifting. You know him better than we do these days."

Her lips parted, brow furrowing in something like incredulity. "Javier..."

"It's true, isn't it? We all had our suspicions, but now it's all laid out pretty clear." He paused for a beat before casually continuing. "You know, Micah thinks we have a rat..."

She scoffed and glanced both ways before turning back to face him, drawing in close and pointing a finger up to her own chest. "And what, you think it's me!?"

He shrugged noncommittally. "You, John, Arthur, Kieran, Abigail...could be anyone, I guess. Just, seems awfully strange the way our luck really started to turn when you showed up..."

Willa stepped back, shaking her head and looking at him in honest disbelief. "From what I heard, your luck was turned _long_ before I showed up. I am tryin' to _help_ , Javier. I _told_ Dutch I'd fall into line. Why the _hell_ would me or any one of them rat out this gang!? They're family..."

Javier's eyes narrowed. "I don't know, Wilhelmina," he replied as he took a few steps back from her. "You tell me...maybe, those Pinkertons offered to give Arthur a break if you turn the rest of us over..." And just like that, he was turning his back on her and resuming his patrol along the perimeter.

Willa stood there in shocked silence for a minute. Was that what Micah had been telling them? That there was a chance _she_ could be the reason for all the bad things that had happened to them over the last 6 months? How could they not see the clear line of destruction they'd left in their own wake?

Unbeknownst to her, the same thoughts Arthur had voiced to Dutch and Micah earlier that very day were now among the ones flitting around in her own head. They didn't _need_ a rat with the way they'd been acting. They should have been scattering to the winds by now, and instead here they all were, cowering and waiting for Dutch to save them. The girls knew it was none of their fault, and yet none of them had jumped the sinking ship. And the men...it was like the men were all scurrying, looking for someone else to blame for their own collective audacity.

Were Micah, Bill and Javier really so eager to try and claim Arthur and John's positions as Dutch's favorites when the whole goddamn thing was coming unraveled around them?

Arthur seemed different; he felt the weight of guilt and regret like none of the others seemed to, except maybe Charles and John; she knew John felt guilt about the things they'd done in Dutch's name over the years, had heard him talk about it and talked about it with him herself. Charles had killed when killing needed to be done, but she was certain the whole business was grinding him down; he didn't seem like he was cut out for bandit life, and he had been spending more and more time with that tribe up at Wapiti as of late.

She had no idea why Trelawny was still around; that man was enigmatic about every aspect of his life. And knowing he was notorious for disappearing for lengthy periods, she couldn't guess why he hadn't up and left yet when they had so much heat on their tails. Uncle And Swanson were a bit more understandable; they had nowhere else to go, and Swanson seemed to feel that it was his moral duty to stick around and pitch in now that he'd sobered up.

She'd hoped to talk with most of the folks in the gang about breaking loose, and she _had_ talked to a good few of them already; but with the things she kept hearing being said against her, and now Arthur as well, she didn't know how far she could keep pushing. Loyalty was a tricky thing with these people, and her complete and total lack of fealty to Dutch van der Linde was not exactly a well-kept secret. She was starting to get nervous that if she kept bringing it up, things would reach an irreparable breaking point.

"Miss Thorne?"

Willa was startled out of her thoughts by Kieran. He walked up beside her and stooped to set down two full pails of water, presumably for some of the horses. He stood back up straight, meeting her gaze with his one good eye a bit sheepishly. "S-Sorry. Just thought I'd see how you was gettin' on."

She sighed and shook her head. "Oh, just fine I suppose. You, uh...you hear about Colm?"

He nodded, reaching up to scratch the thick growth of beard at one side of his chin. "Yes. D-Dutch And Mrs. Adler are goin' to see him off, huh...?"

"And Arthur and me as well, apparently...say, you wanna go in my place? I imagine you've still got some bones to pick with him..."

Kieran looked away from her and shrugged his shoulders. "No. N-No, he uh..." He cleared his throat, clearly uncomfortable. "To be honest, he still scares me. I know that's p-probably a foolish thing to say. But...even if he weren't the one took my eye, he still gave the order. A-and I _was_ a turncoat, I guess. I get it. But..."

"But you ain't in the revenge business," she suggested in a gentle tone.

He shrugged again, finally casting his gaze back to her. "Not so much. Ain't, uh...ain't much for any of this business anymore, if I'm bein' honest..."

Willa nodded, going into her satchel to retrieve her tobacco. "I know how you feel. You...talk to Mary-Beth at all yet?" She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye before refocusing on her hands.

Kieran cleared his throat and gave her a hasty nod. "A bit. She don't wanna leave the other girls, though. We talked about...about maybe stealin' a wagon, takin' off at night, but...I don't know. Don't know if I wanna be stealin' from this gang just now..."

Her mouth quirked. She licked the paper of the cigarette quickly before sealing it up. "What about Pearson? His wagon's his own, isn't it?"

Kieran shrugged again. "Perhaps. I-I suppose I could try to speak with him."

She nodded, putting a reassuring hand on his arm as she saw Arthur approaching again. "Just be careful. I understand you wantin' to tread lightly. That's smart."

He blinked and glanced back over at her, a sheepish smile curling up one corner of his mouth. He leaned back down to retrieve the pails of water. "T-That's, uh...thank you, Miss Thorne," he replied as he stood back up. The times anything he'd done had been acknowledged as smart were few and far between, indeed. He nodded towards Arthur as he came to a stop in front of them. "Mr. Morgan."

Arthur offered the man a nod. "Kieran."

Before Kieran could walk away, Willa interjected quickly. "If we're goin' down to St. Denis, you mind keepin' an eye on Sam again? Hopefully no more than a day."

"Of course. H-He's not much trouble at all. Was thinkin', actually, about maybe takin' him out riding?"

Willa nodded, striking a match to light her cigarette. "That's a good idea. He should have some more practice. Just, uh...keep to the west of here. Safer in that direction."

"Yes ma'am." Kieran wandered away from them then, off to bring that water over to a group of the horses.

"You really trust him with Sam?" Arthur settled one of his hands on his belt, eyes trailing after Kieran for a few more moments before flicking back to her.

"I do." She exhaled a plume of smoke, crossing her arms. "Kieran's a good sort, Arthur. He just...fell into the wrong life."

"Ain't we all..."

She scoffed gently and held the cigarette out towards him. "So...we ridin' south?"

He reached out to take the smoke from her, squinting as he took a drag. "Dutch and Sadie are leavin' tonight. We could go with 'em I suppose, elsewise leave real early in the mornin' and meet 'em at that Doyle's Tavern before the _show_ starts..."

She hummed, catching her lower lip between her teeth. "If I suffer ridin' down there with Dutch tonight, that mean we get to hole up in a fancy St. Denis hotel room...?"

He couldn't stop a smirk crossing his features as he handed the cigarette back. "Well, I guess it does..." He cleared his throat, brows furrowing slightly. "I should warn you though, I, uh...probably won't be makin' the trip back wit' you."

She cocked an eyebrow as she took a drag from the cigarette. "Why not...?"

"You remember those kids back in Rhodes I told you about? Beau and Penelope? Well, I got a letter from young Miss Braithwaite yesterday, askin' for my help once more. Seems her and Beau finally decided to run off together, but they're wantin' an escort. With what you're sayin' about how I should stay out of Roanoke for a few days, this might be the best time to go see what I can do for 'em."

A sly little smile crept across her face as she pressed in towards him. "Arthur Morgan...bloodthirsty, no-good, low-down lieutenant of old Dutch van der Linde...ridin' out to help make sure two starry-eyed young lovers can start their lives together...?"

He cleared his throat again somewhat uncomfortably, a small blush creeping up his cheeks; the irony in her words was not at all lost upon him. "Somethin' like that, I guess..."

So they rode down to the city that afternoon, crossing to the west of the Kamassa and taking the winding roads there southward. Dutch talked quite a bit of bluster the whole way down, needling Arthur about their sordid and bloodied past with Colm O'Driscoll. A few of the stories managed to elicit a throaty chuckle out of him, but for the most part he remained stubbornly reticent.

Sadie was also oddly quiet for most of the ride, and Willa frequently found herself stealing worried glances at the woman riding just in front of her. She'd tried to strike up a few conversations, but after several one or two-word answers, she'd given up.

They arrived in the city much too late for most of the shops to still be open, so Dutch made it known that they were to wake early the next day so that the women could purchase a few dresses at the tailors; they needed to blend in, and he had another idea about how he and Arthur could move through the crowds undetected, but said he was leaving it a 'surprise.'

Arthur replied that he was not so fond of surprises anymore, and Dutch simply told him to lighten up before they split off to their various accommodations.

The next morning, as the tailor set two neatly wrapped boxes down on the counter in front of them, Sadie glanced back at the other three. "I need a drink before we do this."

Dutch let his eyes roll before he paid the tailor and gave the man a squinty smile, nodding his head. "Thank you, sir. Excuse the lady, she obviously detests social functions..." He snatched up the two boxes and tucked them under his arm before ushering the lot of them towards the door.

"You sure that's a good idea...?" Willa side-eyed the other woman as they exited the shop and descended the stairs back to the street.

"Oh, I think it's an excellent idea. We still got some time before he's due to swing."

"Keep your head, Mrs. Adler. I'll meet you all at Doyle's shortly. I'm off to fetch me and Arthur some disguises." Dutch handed Arthur the two boxes and afforded them a brief little wave before smoothly splitting off from the group and heading down a side street.

Arthur and Willa ordered beers at the bar while Sadie opted for a double shot of whiskey. The other two eyed each other with sideways glances from either side of her, actually finding themselves hoping that Dutch wasn't planning on taking too long.

After the second double they convinced Sadie to switch to beer instead. "Take it easy, Sadie. I know this is...well, it's all been bad business-"

Sadie whipped her head to the side to hiss at Arthur, cutting him off before he could say any more. "Don't you worry about me!"

Willa looked over at the sound of the doors opening to see Dutch, a sack full of something clutched at his side. He approached the group, nodding his head towards the back of the little tavern. "Let's go."

Sadie sneered and tipped back the beer, draining the rest of it in a long swallow before pushing her stool back and standing to follow him. They all made their way to the back, and Dutch pulled open a random door to check that the coast was clear inside before ushering the women towards it. "Get changed. Quick, now. If I get to see that son of a bitch breathe his last, I think I can die a happy man..."

They each took a box from Arthur, glancing at each other before they entered the room. Dutch swung the door shut behind the two women and looked down so he could rummage in that sack, producing a policeman's custodian helmet and holding it out towards Arthur.

His brows furrowed as he took the helmet, squinting at it suspiciously. "What's this?"

"Our disguise..." Dutch offered a toothy smirk as he pulled a blue woolen coat from the sack as well. "Despite us bein' wanted men, we're going to attend this event..."

Arthur took the coat in his other hand, looking incredulously back and forth between the two policeman's articles. He muttered to himself and raised his gaze to the ceiling. "Might as well follow 'im onto the scaffold while we're at it...

They both looked over as the door swung open a few minutes later and the two women emerged, swathed in frills and petticoats like two life size china dolls. Sadie's dress was a deep golden yellow with puffed sleeves and white lace around the collar. Wilhelmina had opted for a muted teal bustle dress with a darker velvet trim around its collar that was a tad less ostentatious and immediately made Arthur think of those lovely blue juniper trees that grew everywhere in the deserts back west.

Arthur hadn't noticed his mouth was hanging open until he felt Dutch's hand pressing into his shoulder, pushing him towards the door. "Come on, tough guy. It's our turn."

They made their way out the back door of the tavern in a line ten minutes later, winding through the alleys towards the northern end of the city where the scaffolds sat.

Arthur rolled his shoulders uncomfortably, trying to get the wool coat to stretch and accommodate his frame. "Well, don't we just look the part..."

Dutch glanced back at them from where he led at the front. "Just remember, we keep our weapons holstered, our disguises _on,_ and our wits about us..."

Arthur just rolled his eyes. "Least these two look like they fit the part. Bein' fancy women of St. Denis suits _them."_

Sadie scoffed and let out a boozy little burp from in front of him. "I'd dress up like the Queen of Shiba if it meant seein' that son of a bitch swing..."

"Colm hung me up, nearly _butchered_ me, and that don't mean I'm comfortable in this woolen coat..."

"You made it outta that predicament as I remember, Mr. Morgan. My husband weren't so lucky..."

"We've all lost _something_ because of Colm. Keep those fingers off those triggers, 'cause we'll need cool heads and calm dispositions to see this done..." Dutch led them out of the alley and onto the street, veering right to keep heading north.

Arthur couldn't help a low scoff from the back of the line. "Practice what you preach, brother."

"Whatever do you mean?"

"Are you gonna keep your cool? _Really?_ When you seem to lose it oh, so often, now?"

"This doubting and questioning of yours...I miss the old Arthur!" Dutch glanced back, narrowing his eyes in Arthur's direction.

Willa couldn't help baring her teeth, directing a snide remark towards Dutch. "With Hosea gone, _somebody's_ gotta take up his mantle. Your old friend Micah's nothin' but a goddamn two-faced bootlicker..."

Sadie cut a hand to her side in exasperation as they walked. "Quit it, you three! Now we all got a job to do, and we're all in rough agreement about how we're doin' it. As far as I can tell..."

"Exactly," Dutch replied.

Willa rolled her eyes to the sky. "Rough agreement's one way to describe it..."

"We'll get it done," Arthur replied from the back of the line.

"Alright then. Come on. We got a hangin' to witness..." Sadie craned her neck to look over at the crowd gathered in the square as they came up on the gallows.

"Look here. Don't the public _love_ an execution..." Dutch chuckled to himself as they took up positions close to the entrance. He took a good look around and immediately pointed out a few rowdy men towards the back of the crowd, informing the others that those happened to be some of Colm's boys.

The O'Driscolls snickered with each other, and one of them pointed up toward the roof of a building across the street. Dutch's eyes narrowed when he caught sight of that, and he and Arthur agreed to go after one who was splitting off from the group. They stepped aside and lowered their heads as the man came out through the entrance and made his way past them and across the street.

Dutch pointed a finger in the direction of the two women before he turned to follow the O'Driscoll. "You two stay here."

Arthur stepped over then, holding a hand out towards Sadie and speaking in a lowered voice. "Don't do nothin'." He cast his gaze towards Willa then, giving her a meaningful look that told her she better keep an eye on the other woman, and she gave him a little nod in return before he turned to catch up with Dutch.

Willa watched him walk away, and she had to admit, somehow they both seemed to pull off the cop act pretty well. She chewed her lip and turned back to Sadie, who was peering into the square from around the large pillar they stood in front of. "Hey...how you doin', Sadie?"

Sadie cocked an eyebrow as she glanced back at Wilhelmina. "Just keepin' an eye on Colm's boys. If they got somebody across the street, we still need to stop these ones from makin' a move to save that bastard..."

"Stop 'em, huh..." Willa muttered to herself and looked around, trying to gauge the scene. There were real St. Denis policemen stationed at every corner of the square, and just in front of the stairs that led up to the scaffold. Suddenly, an idea struck her.

A crier stepped up to the front of the wooden platform, clearing his throat before he started addressing the crowd from a written indictment he held open in both hands. _"Fair citizens of St. Denis...for as long as any of us can remember, it is justice that separates us from barbary."_

Willa tugged at Sadie's sleeve. "Quick. Rip my dress."

Sadie whipped her head around to look back at Willa. "What?"

 _"Yet justice itself can at times be barbaric. For sometimes, a man is so savage, the only way to deal with him justly is by savagery."_

"Help me rip the goddamn dress! I got an idea! Hurry!" She reached down herself and took hold of the velvet fabric around the collar where there was a seam, trying to pull it apart.

Sadie shook her head and knelt to reach up under her petticoats and pull her hunting knife from where she'd strapped the sheath around her leg. She took hold of the front of the beautiful teal dress and began cutting at it roughly, shredding bits of the satin as she glanced back and forth around them.

 _"Colm O'Driscoll is one such man. He has murdered, tortured, robbed, stolen, raped and abused for a decade across five states, seemingly with impunity."_

Willa reached up and grabbed the ridiculous little hat she'd put on with the dress, tossing it to the ground so she could rough up her raven hair. "That's good, that's good. Now stay here! I'm gonna see if I can take care of those fuckers without any of us havin' to get involved..."

"What-!?" Before she could get a reply, Sadie was watching Willa stumble off into the square, beelining towards two police officers stationed at the corner nearest them. She gasped and jumped when someone came up on her other side, whipping around to see Dutch.

 _"Today, justice catches up with him."_

Dutch narrowed his eyes, craning his neck to see where Wilhelmina had wandered off to. "Where the hell did she go!?"

Sadie shook her head, splaying her hands at her sides in irritation before realizing she was still holding the knife and quickly shoving that hand behind her back. "She said she had an idea..."

Two officers led Colm O'Driscoll up to the center of the scaffold, where he let out a harsh laugh and swayed on his feet as if he hadn't much of a care in the world. "As well you may! Now, I been a bad man, but these charges are-"

 _"Silence!"_

the crier called out from beside him as one of the officers stuffed a gag into his mouth. _"This is not a court where you shall be tried. This is a place where your sentence is to be carried out. And your sentence, Colm O'Driscoll, is that you are to be hanged by the neck until you are dead!"_

Willa stumbled up towards the officers, clutching at her torn skirts in one hand and reaching up towards one of them with the other. "Help me, please!"

The man's bushy brows went up in surprise when he took in her battered appearance, and he faltered from the leisurely stance he'd settled himself into against the short brick wall that fenced in the square. "M-Miss-!?"

The officer beside him suddenly looked over at his buddy's exclamation and saw her, his mouth falling open in surprise.

"Th-Those men!" She grabbed at the sleeve of the first officer's coat and then turned, pointing towards the two O'Driscolls still stood in the crowd. "Those _brutes_! They attacked me!" She turned to face him again with a tortured gaze, willing tears to manifest at the corners of her eyes as she looked back and forth between the two cops. "They tried to...to have their way with me! And I heard 'em talkin', that fella up there's their boss! They're plannin' on _stoppin_ ' this hangin'!"

The two officers looked at each other, and then back to her. One of them lifted a hand and pointed toward the two men dressed all in black. "Those fellas? Right there?"

She glanced back briefly and then nodded, emitting a hiccuping little sob as she buried her face in her hands. " _Please_ , you've got to do somethin'!"

 _"This is not a task we take lightly! It is not a task we enjoy!"_ The crier continued his speech as the officer up on the scaffold cinched the noose tight around Colm O'Driscoll's neck. The infamous gang leader looked up towards the roof across the street and his eyes suddenly went wide. _"But it is a task we must carry out if our civilization is to prosper!"_

Colm began to tremble as he lowered his gaze and saw two policemen muscle their way through the crowd to get to his men, coming up behind them with guns drawn and spinning them around.

Sadie and Dutch had also been making their way up towards the two O'Driscolls, but upon seeing the officers get there first, Dutch quickly grabbed Sadie's arm and pulled her to a stop beside him. He took a few steps back, snapping at her when she hissed and tried to keep going.

 _"Gentlemen...are we ready? Colm O'Driscoll. May God, in his infinite wisdom, have mercy upon your soul!"_ The crier took a step back and motioned towards an officer standing at the ready by the lever that would release the door beneath Colm's shaking feet. _"Whenever you are ready..."_

The officer paused for a few moments of added drama before yanking the lever back with the full force of his weight. The trap door swung down, Colm dropped, and the crowd let out a collective, morbidly fascinated sigh.

The two officers whose help Willa had commandeered had told her to stay put, but she pushed her way through the crowd towards Sadie and Dutch, barely giving Colm's dangling body a glance. "Alright," she spoke from beside them in a hushed tone. "It's done. Can we get the hell out of here now?"

Sadie stared at Colm for a few moments longer, jaw clenched tightly. She afforded the O'Driscolls a withering glare as the officers pushed them toward the edge of the square, guns pointed at their backs. She grit her teeth, one hand at her side still clutching that hunting knife so tightly her knuckles were white.

"How's it feel watchin' someone you love die? Goddamn bastards..." Sadie muttered, practically shaking with an overflowing reserve of unspent anger. She'd wanted to slit their throats and watch them bleed out onto the brickwork while their beloved leader died in front of them. She knew it was wrong, but she found herself actually feeling enraged at the fact Wilhelmina had stolen that from her.

Dutch put a hand on Sadie's back, glancing all around before guiding her towards the street. "Yes. It's done, now. Time to disappear." He eyed Willa as she fell into step beside him, taking in her torn up dress with a bit of a scowl. "What did you say to those officers?"

She glanced back at their leader, shrugging slightly and reaching up to wipe some residual wetness from the corners of her eyes. "Told 'em Colm's men attacked me. You said we needed to keep it calm. That's all I was tryin' to do."

He hummed in acknowledgement and remained silent after that as they made their way back out to the street. Arthur met up with them a few minutes later as they came up on Doyle's Tavern.

His brows went up as he got a closer look at what Willa had done to her dress. He'd found a rifle when he'd made his way to the rooftop, and after taking out the O'Driscoll that had tried to ambush him, he'd picked the gun up to watch the proceedings down below through the scope. He had let it drop to his side partway through though, not being able to resist giving Colm a little farewell wave just before his neck broke.

"Good thinkin' gettin' the cops involved, but this is a real shame..." He reached down and caught a shredded piece of satin between his fingers, glancing up at her with his mouth quirked.

Willa grabbed at his fingers to lead him back into the tavern behind Dutch and Sadie, shrugging her shoulders as she went. "Better the dress than anybody down in that square. It was the only thing I could think of that might stop people from gettin' hurt."

Sadie had already gone to the bar to order another drink while Dutch went back to that little side room to change, leaving Willa and Arthur with a few moments of privacy. He graced her with an approving little smile, lowering his voice. "You did good. And you kept Mrs. Adler from doin' somethin' she might regret later..."

Willa glanced back toward the woman at the bar before her gaze flicked back to Arthur. "Think she might hate me for it right now..."

He let out a short scoff and reached up to tuck some of her hair behind her ear; it was still a bit wild-looking from when she'd approached those cops. "Well, right now's just right now. It ain't forever. You good, ridin' back to Beaver Hollow wit' them?"

Her mouth flattened smugly but she nodded, leaning up on her toes to grab that silly policeman's helmet off his head and press a chaste kiss to his lips. "Yes..."

Arthur smirked and took the helmet from her, affording it the briefest of glances before tossing it off behind his shoulder. He looked up as Dutch came back out in his regular semi-finery. "Alright then. I'm gonna get outta this woolen prison, ride out 'n find Miss Braithwaite. Should be back in camp tomorrow, I imagine."

Willa chewed her lip for a moment before nodding and taking a step back from him. "Alright then. Be careful."

Arthur left the tavern shortly after. He took a zigzagging path westward through the city, urging Rei up the road at a gentle trot. Something about the events of the day had left him feeling shiftless and uneasy, although he couldn't exactly figure out why. He had felt a sharp and mean satisfaction watching that little door swing open under Colm's feet, but it had been a fleeting rush at best. Coming down from that, he found himself dwelling on the simplicity of it; how easy it was, to take a man's life. How easily it could have been him up there with that noose around his neck.

"Mr. Morgan!"

He blinked and looked over to his right, towards that big church where he'd been pickpocketed by one of those street urchins almost two months ago. He realized quickly the voice that had beckoned him came from that nun Brother Dorkins had introduced him to around that same time; the last he'd seen her had been right here as well, when he'd returned her stolen crucifix.

She was standing just outside the church grounds now, a little brass bell held in one hand; it looked like she was collecting alms for the poor. He clicked his tongue and guided Rei over to the sidewalk, slipping easily out of the saddle and down to the ground. "Hello, Sister, uh..."

"Calderón."

He nodded and offered her a bit of a sheepish smile as he took the horse's reins and looped them over a hitching post.

"Brother Dorkins and I were talking about you just the other day, and hoping we would see you again."

Arthur glanced up at her a bit incredulously, hooking one of his thumbs over his belt. "And how is Brother Dorkins?

"Oh, he's quite well..." she bent to hang her bell off the back of a sign on the sidewalk beside her that read 'DONATE.' "A little frustrated with the workings of our order."

She turned and brushed gently past him, making her way toward a bench so that she could sit for a few minutes. "He keeps trying to be sent overseas, you know, do something with more challenge. Maybe, be a missionary..." She took a seat, making sure to leave plenty of room in case he decided to join her. She looked up at Arthur, crow's feet crinkling around her eyes as she smiled at him. "He's a lovely man."

Arthur gave a shallow nod, glancing off toward the church on the other side of the fence. "Sure..."

Calderón nested her hands in her lap. "And how are you?"

Arthur shrugged, focus returning to the Sister briefly as he decided he did, in fact, want to take a seat beside her. "Never better..."

"Are you sure?"

"Well, I'm quite sure, Sister."

"You know a long time ago, I was like you..." she pointed a finger at him in an almost playful manner, and he couldn't help a wry scoff escaping at the very thought of such nonsense.

"I very much doubt that!"

She shook her head, chortling softly at his reaction. "Oh, I did terrible things, awful things! And I could not _stop_ doing terrible things, because I did not believe that goodness existed...and then one day, I saw that love did exist. And ever since then, doing bad things became...well not impossible, but...ridiculous!"

Arthur sat quietly and listened to the older woman; he could barely comprehend her unpretentious _joie de vivre;_ she almost reminded him of Hamish in the way she seemed so comfortable with the world and her own place in it, despite bearing witness to its cruelty.

"Well, I guess I've...no, I...I _know_ I've seen it." He glanced down at his hands as he threaded them together between his legs. "Love, I mean. Just, uh...well, seein' it is a bit different than thinkin' I might _deserve_ it...you know, after all the terrible things I done..."

Calderón offered him a gentle, albeit still slightly playful, smile. "I shall pray for you, then."

"Oh, I'm not a religious man, Sister..." He cleared his throat then, offering her a somewhat shy little hal-smile that turned up one corner of his mouth. "I'm an outlaw..."

She laughed then, catching his eyes again. "What fun! Religion is just a word. Hearts are rarely pure. But equally they are rarely impure either!"

Arthur blinked, leaning back from the Sister slightly. "Well that's an interesting way of puttin' it."

She stood up then, ambling slowly past him back towards the sign with the little collection pot hanging beneath it. "To me, God is people, and people are God, so...we must all do what we can." Calderón plucked up the brass bell and it tinkled in her hand as she turned back towards him. "These people are starving. Go find them some food! Don't worry so much about your heart."

She tracked him with her warm, almost motherly gaze as he stood and followed her back to her little post. "The actions will lead...and the heart follows. Often, I find that putting love out into the world is a very sure way of causing it to be given back." She furrowed her brows, lowering her voice in exaggerated seriousness. "I'll still think of you in very nasty terms, as you wish..."

Arrhur chuckled softly, his gaze moving past her and to the sign before dropping to the little pot down below. He sighed, reaching up to rub the stubble on his chin. "You know, I just watched a fella I hate get hung. I mean, I'm a bad man, but...I ain't him. And yet..."

She cocked an eyebrow at him, holding the bell against her breast. "And yet...?"

He cast his gaze back to her, searching Calderón's dark eyes, her distinguished features. "It could've been me up there wit' that rope around my neck." He shrugged his shoulders, attempting to feign some kind of nonchalance. "I mean, if God is people, and people are the ones passin' judgment on each other...well, I imagine there's a lot of folks wouldn't see no difference at all between me and him."

Arthur's brows furrowed and he tilted his head down in that way he had, suddenly feeling exposed in front of a woman he instinctively knew was very smart and had probably seen a great many things in her life. "Just hard to figure, is all...how much love a fella like me would have to put into the world to erase that kinda shadow."

The Sister remained silent for a few moments before giving him a rather enigmatic little smile. "There is no erasing your life, Mr. Morgan. But the choices you make now are your own, as they have always been. You can choose to learn from past mistakes, see the beauty in what you might have once thought was only ugliness, let a few good actions carry your heart into the habit of _continuing to do so._ Give yourself a reason not to end up like this other man..." She gestured gently toward the collection pot before catching his gaze again.

Arthur sighed and nodded absently a few times. "You know what, Sister? Buy some food with this..." He reached down to rummage in his satchel, pulling out a few bills from a fairly thin money clip and taking a step forward to bend down and drop them into the pot.

"Oh, you are wonderful, Mr. Morgan!" A small smirk crossed her face as she lapsed back into that exaggerated seriousness again. "But so very frightening..."

He just let out a little scoff and shook his head, lifting one hand in a little two-fingered wave as he turned away from her. "Be well, Sister."

"And you, Mr. Morgan!"

Once he was mounted he glanced back and offered her a final parting nod, reaching up to tip his hat before clicking his tongue and guiding Rei back in the original direction they'd been headed. Going to help two lovesick young kids was putting some kind of love back into the world, wasn't it? It might not erase more than twenty years of hellraising, but it was some kind of a start.


	28. Beaver Hollow - Revenge And Other Dreams

It took Arthur quite a bit longer to get back to Beaver Hollow than he'd initially thought it would; he'd ended up accompanying Beau and Penelope on the train, and with the arrival of their pissed off country cousins, things had rapidly gotten out of control. He was only supposed to ride with them until they reached the first stop, but then those inbred bumpkins had come barreling up behind on horseback, shooting up the train in search of their stolen family treasure (and Arthur still had to laugh at the fact that there actually _was_ a treasure after all).

He'd finally ended up parting from them at Riggs Station, all the way out in West Elizabeth. What should have been no more than a day's worth of travel easily turned into two. He had a lot of time to think on the train ride back; and he found himself thinking about a whole hell of a lot.

He recalled what Penelope had said to him on their ride into Rhodes, lamenting the strict attachment their families both held to ignorance and old feuds that should have been long forgotten. _Beau's strong enough to stand up to his family. To be different from folk. You don't know how hard that can be; to say somethin' is wrong, when everyone around you thinks it's right._ He'd told her not to look back, to get out of there and make something decent of her life.

Funny, how he couldn't seem to take his own advice. That wasn't exactly right, though; he _could_ , and he _wanted to,_ but something in him just could not make that final push to remove the leash of decades of unwavering loyalty from around his own neck. Some base part of him continued to cling onto the belief that Dutch would somehow come to his senses and see them through this. Some even smaller, baser part of him even whispered that once Dutch _did_ work his magic, and they had gotten rid of Micah, and Bill and Javier had pulled their heads out of their asses, Willa would decide that they should remain with the gang and they could keep the family together.

He had to laugh at himself. A pretty dream was all that was, and he knew it. He needed to talk to John. He'd already talked to Abigail, and he knew Willa had been talking to others of the gang about leaving as well. He didn't want to do this to her, make her stay and help try to pick up the pieces while more and more just seemed to be falling apart around them; she insisted on sticking by him though, and he knew that part of that insistence was her needling desire to stay around the place where they'd last seen her brother.

They hadn't seen hide nor hair of Everett since she'd spotted him with Dutch and Micah back in Annesburg, and Arthur found himself wondering about that more often than was healthy. Ever since he'd found her at Beaver Hollow, he'd been riddled with guilt over the fact that he'd reached the gang a single day too late; if he'd somehow known to go to Lakay the same night he'd been dropped off in Van Horn, he could have prevented her from drunkenly storming off by herself and finding all that trouble; he could have prevented a whole world of hurt.

Admittedly, he was surprised at how quickly she'd seemed to rally from what certainly would have been a drawn out, tortuous death at the hands of her brother; but then, wasn't that what he'd done after he'd escaped the O'Driscolls? After he'd woken up and had a few days to come to his senses, he'd locked away all the fear and hate and despair and gone back behind that old safe shield of grumpy sarcasm and coolness.

He'd been fairly certain Colm was going to kill him, and he'd been absolutely fucking terrified. But he'd made the choice; either he escaped to make it back to the gang, or he got caught trying to escape and the O'Driscolls would kill him and they would no longer have bait to lure Dutch into a trap. For a long time Arthur hadn't been scared of death quite like he was in those dark few days, and that was a trait he knew he shared with Wilhelmina. She'd told him willingly enough that the only thing she'd cared about for years was hunting down her brother and taking her revenge, fully armed with the knowledge that she'd more than likely get killed in the trying of it.

Something had changed though, after they'd started spending all that time together back at Clemens Point. He had vague memories from when he was strung up in that dark and dingy basement, blurred fragments of hallucinations and illusory voices blending together in a haze of pain. She was among the visions he'd seen, and she'd always appeared like some spirit, tinged in soft light around the edges, drawing in close with sweet concern in those brown eyes, but never close enough to touch.

When he'd woken up in his own cot and seen her there beside him with that concern very much real and present, he'd known at that moment he was well and truly in over his head. She'd started crying, and he'd told her he wasn't worth her tears, and she'd gotten pissed at him for that. He smiled rather fondly at the memory; funny, how in his hazy delirium he'd almost slipped and told her she was far too beautiful to be weeping over him. He'd been terrified of even hinting at his growing feelings; hell, he'd been so terrified of ruining what had unexpectedly become a very important friendship, he'd never even seen the signs that indicated she'd felt the exact same way he did.

He'd been terrified when he finally kissed her the night of Jack's party at Shady Belle, too, after she'd opened up to him so much, _trusted_ him with so much; and after years and years of having nothing and no one, he couldn't imagine what a weight must have been lifted from her after all was said and done. He honestly didn't think he'd done all that much, after having spent his life in the company of a number of other folks, but she'd told him numerous times his friendship had meant more to her than just about anything. And she spent a fair amount of time these days letting him know that his love meant even more than that.

Once he'd finally gotten off the train back in Rhodes and retrieved Rei from where he'd left her hitched, he made sure she had a few good snacks and a sugar cube for her trouble before mounting up to head north again. He'd been thinking of his conversation with Sister Calderón about love when he came upon a woman whose horse had simply collapsed underneath her while she was riding, and he decided maybe he should take the Sister's advice and put some more of that love back out into the world. Emerald Ranch was where she needed to go and he'd been headed in that direction anyway, so he'd made the decision to offer his help since it wasn't cutting too much into his time.

While Arthur was traveling, Willa had an interesting day in his absence; she'd been planning on taking Sam to visit with Hamish again, but had to put it off when Charles had ridden into camp with a young Wapiti man by the name of Eagle Flies. She knew of him and his father already from both Charles and Arthur, but she'd only taken the information in passing; there had never been any expectation of actually meeting them.

When he'd told Dutch of his people's ongoing struggles with the army, the older man had positively jumped at the idea of helping them. Their horses had been commandeered and Eagle Flies' father, the chief, had not wanted to press their luck by pushing back and staging a raid to retrieve them. Eagle Flies made it very apparent that he felt differently, and Charles and Arthur _had_ helped him out once before, and so he had searched them out with the intention of asking for their help once again.

But Arthur was still away, and Charles wanted someone else to accompany them when Dutch turned down the boy's money and offered to help him steal back those horses out of the goodness of his own heart. Charles was opposed to the whole idea in the first place, and he wanted someone else along who had suspicions of Dutch's motives; and John was away from camp trying to sniff out more information about the wagon full of army-grade dynamite they were now setting up to steal. So that left Wilhelmina; Charles had set it up as more of a babysitting mission than anything else, but she was anxious about the whole thing nonetheless.

Dutch had given her quite a bit of side-eye the whole length of their ride down to Van Horn, though she was sure he thought she hadn't noticed. She was used to observing people though, and she caught his brief, calculating glances, the way he spoke without revealing too much. It could have just been the way he treated all his new recruits, but something in her gut told her it was his suspicion getting the better of him; the worms birthed of Micah's whispers, wriggling in his ears.

She'd felt conscience-stricken at hearing Eagle Flies' retelling of all the outrages the army had committed against his people, and her heart pulled at her to want to help in some way, but she was overwhelmed and worried about what Dutch seemed to be offering. Charles had made an excellent point that they could simply buy or even steal new horses for the tribe, but it was becoming increasingly obvious that Eagle Flies saw it as a matter of honor and principle; he did not want just any horses, he wanted _their_ horses, rightfully returned by any means necessary.

And so she'd stuck by Charles, done what she was told, helped them take out the soldiers on the ship, swam after the horses when Dutch took the helm and drove the goddamn boat into the rocks...and she'd done all of it with minimal complaint, which she was actually very proud of; because there had been a myriad of curses and oaths dancing at the tip of her tongue, and they were all aimed at Dutch van der Linde.

When he rode off to help Eagle Flies return the horses to his men and scout out Fort Wallace, Charles had turned to her with a stricken expression. He'd tried yet again moments before to plead with Eagle Flies against going to stir up more trouble, only to be met with headstrong defiance. "I said I would stop this from happening..."

She bared her teeth, glancing up at him as she wrung river water out of her mop of hair. "Seems there ain't much anyone can do once old Dutch gets a fire lit under his ass. Why the hell is he so interested in gettin' involved in all of this, Charles?"

Charles shook his head, droplets of water falling down from the tight braid that ran down his back. "He hasn't said as much to us, but I think he wants to use this as a distraction...if the Wapiti keep retaliating, the army _will_ crush them. I need to..." He trailed off, tilting his head down like he was deep in thought.

Willa planted her hands on her hips, waiting for him to continue. She hated standing there in Dutch's wake, jarred and feeling like a goddamn wet cat and having no clue as to what was really going on. She wished Arthur had gotten back early enough to perhaps put a stop to Dutch's sudden burst of what seemed to be spurious goodwill.

"I need to ride out, speak with Rains Fall. But, I..." Charles's brows drew down as he almost sheepishly cast a brief glance up at her. "I would have asked Arthur, but...would you ride with me?"

Wilhelmina blinked. "Me? I ain't..." She splayed her hands at her sides. "I've never spoken to no Indian chief before, Charles! What the hell am I gonna be good for if I go with you?"

He cast out a heavy sigh. "The Lakota tribes have a word for what you are: _winoxtca._ A warrior. I think Rains Fall will respect what you have to say. Or, he'll realize that Eagle Flies might. And if I'm returning to report nothing but failure, I..." He trailed off again, splaying his own hands. "I just need...a friend."

She sucked in a big breath, chewing her lip. "I'm no warrior, Charles. I'm a...I just do what I have to do. And what _am_ I supposed to say? Sorry, your son's bein' led on by a goddamn maniac? Sorry, he might get you and all your people killed!? Sorry, there ain't nothin' I can do about it!?"

Charles turned away from her, planting his own hands at his hips and letting out a frustrated grunt. "I don't know! But we have to do something! We have to let him know what Eagle Flies is getting himself into!"

"Goddamnit..." she threw her hands up and shook her head, making her way over to where Tulip stood cropping grass at the edge of the beach. "Can we at least stop at camp and let 'em know where we're goin'?"

Charles seemed to breathe a bit easier with the knowledge that he wouldn't have to return with the burden of bad news all on his own, and he nodded as he walked up to Taima. "Of course. I'm sorry to pull you away from the boy. I just..."

Willa hooked a foot into the stirrup and mounted up, shaking her head again. "Sam's fine. He was on his own for a while before this, I only ask folks to look after him so he don't get knocked around by Micah...I just...I don't know, Charles. I don't know about any of this."

"I know. I...I'm sorry. You and Arthur, I know what you're trying to do for us. And I know this may be asking too much, but...I appreciate it. It's a hard thing, wanting to help those people. They're...they're not _my_ people, but I still feel a duty..."

"I get it. Trust me, I get it. It may be a fool's undertaking, but you're my friend, Charles." She glanced back at him as they guided the horses up onto the road to head northwest. "And you're a good man for tryin' to help. All we can do is try, I guess..."

They stopped in camp briefly to gather up a few supplies and let folks know they'd both be gone for a day or two; there was still no sign of Arthur and Willa felt a touch of anxiety gnawing at her gut, but she had to push it down. She asked John to let him know - if he got back before they did - where she'd gone off to, packed up her tent and rode off with Charles westward.

The reservation was small and meager, and the people there desperate. She felt somewhat better walking with Charles at her side, but she very much felt as she had that first day Arthur and Lenny had brought her back to Clemens Point; like all eyes were on her, watching with suspicion and quiet hostility, and she didn't blame them one bit.

Charles led her to a tipi no bigger than any of the others, calling for Rains Fall by name to let him know they were there. When they heard the quiet response from inside bidding him come in, Charles pushed aside the leather flap covering the doorway and nodded to her to go in first.

She gave him a resigned look before ducking inside. It was smoky in there, the only light coming from a fire that burned heartily in the center of the small tent-like structure. Rains Fall was bent down beside it, soaking and wringing out a rag into a small bucket of water.

He looked up as the two entered, brows furrowing ever so slightly as he took in the sight of a woman he'd never seen before. "Charles. Welcome. Though I expect you've returned with bad news..."

Charles let the flap fall behind him, fists clenching at his sides. "I...I tried to stop him. I tried to talk sense into him, but he would not listen. This..." He motioned towards Willa, standing awkwardly with her hat clutched in her hands beside him. "This is Miss Willa Thorne. She accompanied me, to try and make sure things didn't go south. We tried..."

Rains Fall stood up, regarding her with a gaze that seemed to look deeper than she was comfortable with. "Did you have fun with my son, the impetuous Prince?"

Willa blinked, glancing back at Charles briefly, feeling uneasy. "I...no, sir. I did not have fun. I've...I seem to have indentured myself with Dutch van der Linde, and I may have been a bit impetuous myself, in that regard..."

The chief huffed out a small scoff, turning away from them to tend to a sickly old woman who sat on the opposite side of the fire, dabbing gently at her forehead with the wet rag. "I suppose I lack the grandeur of a conventional king? I...suppose I may lack Mr. van der Linde's grandeur..."

Willa's brow knitted. "That ain't necessarily a bad thing, sir. It's...complicated, our situation..."

Rains Fall patted the old woman's shoulder gently, beckoning her to lie down as he turned, letting the rag drop back into the bucket. "Colonel Favours, the man who has broken our treaties, tried to provoke us incessantly...he has already exacted some measure of revenge for the raid you participated in. Two women were assaulted by his men..."

Charles looked down and away, flexing his fists.

Willa's mouth opened, the corners turning down in a grimace. "I...I'm _so sorry_. Charles tried, _he did_..."

"Hm. Yes. Sometimes the correct path, the bravest path, is the least obvious; and also the gentlest. This is what I have tried to teach my son, and I fear I am...only a great disappointment to him."

She shook her head slightly. "Your son, he...seems very headstrong. He seems almost like he _wants_ a war..."

Rains Fall looked toward the ground. "My son...thinks there is glory in death. Maybe he's right, but for me...I saw death being handed out so freely by the most foolish of men, I never could equate it with victory. Glory has come in _service,_ maybe...maybe not, I don't know..."

Willa shook her head, letting the hand with her hat fall down by her hip. "In service to who? To your people? Or to people like Dutch and this Colonel Favours? Listen, sir, I agree with you. I do. It seems to me your son don't realize that even if he dies in what he thinks is glory, he is puttin' all of your people in danger."

Rains Fall looked at her and nodded briefly. "Your friend, Mr. van der Linde, he talks a lot. I don't know him, but my son is easily led..."

Wilhelmina clenched her fist around the fabric of the cavalry hat, her temper flaring ever so slightly. "Dutch van der Linde is _not_ my friend, sir...make no mistake. We have more in common than you think, knowin' folks that're easily led..."

Charles glanced at her out of the corner of his eye, folding his hands on top of each other.

Rains Fall hummed in acknowledgement, moving past the two of them toward the entrance of the small structure. "I am an old man...my whole life, I have tried to bring peace." He stopped and held the leather flap open for Willa and Charles. "Would you care to take a ride with me, Miss Thorne? It won't take long. There is a spot up in the mountains not far from here, that is sacred to my people. It is a good place for reflection. And you seem...troubled."

She blinked, glancing back toward Charles as she ducked back outside. "Well, I...I guess I could."

Charles gave her a reassuring pat on the shoulder. "I can wait here. He already knows my story."

Rains Fall huffed out a little chuckle as he came out behind them, nodding. "Yes. I enjoy hearing people's stories. It...helps me to determine their character."

As they were getting ready to mount up, an army man rode into the settlement. Willa's hand twitched for the butt of her gun, but she calmed when she saw the familiar way he addressed the Wapiti chief. His name was Captain Monroe, and apparently he'd been trying to aid the tribe in their relations with the government, but they'd been railroaded yet again by the Bureau of Indian Affairs and just about every other notable establishment from there to St. Denis; plans were going through to allow an oil company to drill on reservation land, and there didn't seem to be a thing anyone could do about it.

Willa had to wonder if the oil company he mentioned was Cornwall Kerosene and Tar, but she was startled out of her thoughtful silence when Monroe addressed her directly after giving Rains Fall his lamentable news. "Miss Thorne, would you happen to know anyone who might have time to help me? I would rather certain actions were taken by friends outside the tribe..."

She blinked, her gaze falling from the great red clay walls of Calumet Ravine to center on the Captain now riding ahead of her. "Well, I...yes, I suppose I do."

"That's good news. I'm sorry for being so forward, there's just so much to be done. Anyway, I won't take up any more of your time. Thank you. I'll see you both soon..."

Captain Monroe veered off from them where the trail split to wind up into the mountains, riding south while they took the trail heading east and up.

"So, um...well, Charles asked me to come and speak to you about your son. Do you...know much, about Dutch?"

"A little. Mostly what Charles told me."

Willa sighed, clicking her tongue to urge Tulip up closer to where Rains Fall rode in front of her. "It's just that...I don't think Dutch has his, or your, best interests in mind."

"So what do we do?"

"I...I don't know. Honestly, I don't exactly know why he asked me to come out here. I mean, he wanted Arthur to be the one to come speak with you, but he's off on his own business at the moment..."

"Charles is a good man. However, I think he fears letting me down. And your friend Mr. Morgan, though conflicted, has shown some resolve in helping us once before."

"They're both good men. And I think you're right about Charles. And Arthur's just...too loyal for his own damn good. Too loyal to Dutch. He thinks Dutch has changed, but I've _only_ ever known him to be the man he is now. But Arthur's been with him for _twenty years._ I'm scared that he's seein' it, but he isn't really _seein'_ it. If that makes any sense..."

"It took a long time for me to learn that you can never change a person. We only become more who we really are. Perhaps _you_ see that with Mr. van der Linde...just as I see it with my son. It may take Mr. Morgan a bit longer to realize what you seem to see as plainly obvious."

They were quiet for a time, the horses carrying them up into higher climes where the air was thinner and crisp. Rains Fall glanced back at her, half-turning in his saddle. "May I ask you a question, Miss Thorne?"

She blinked and looked up towards him. "Sure. Sir."

"Why are you with Dutch van der Linde?"

She stuck her tongue out to wet her lips, glancing upwards briefly as a huge hawk appeared over a jut of rock and soared across the sky above their heads. "Well...because of Arthur. And...because I want to help the others that are caught up in Dutch's wake. He's so full of crazy ideas, I don't think he knows...or, I don't know, maybe he just doesn't care what'll happen if he starts messin' with the army...and now he's whippin' your son up into a frenzy over it. I honestly don't know whose best interests he has at heart."

Rains Fall hummed in his natural baritone, glancing back at her. "Hm. So, you have willingly joined a fight that is not your own? Two now, if you count accompanying Charles all the way out here just to speak with me. I _do_ appreciate the warning. And your willingness to help Captain Monroe."

"Can I ask you a question, sir?"

"Of course."

"With all these terrible things that've happened to your people, how...how is it so easy for you to..." She trailed off there for a few seconds, trying to find the words she needed. "How do you not retaliate? How do you...forget about revenge?"

Rains Fall hummed low to himself again, glancing back once more as they wound the horses around a narrow bend in the rocky trail. "As I said, I have seen death handed out too freely. Starting a war with the army would be futile. However, they seem determined to erase us, or...to humiliate us, I'm not sure which. It is...a matter of perspective, I suppose. I cannot willingly perpetuate their belief that we are savages, and yet...they incessantly attempt to drive us to savagery. It is a very fine line I try to walk, and I fear I have strayed too far from one side and passed too far into the other."

Willa blinked.

At her silence, the chief pressed on. "I do not... _forget_ revenge, Miss Thorne. It is all something that must be put into perspective. Our children are lost to American reformatories. Our elders are lost to disease that could easily be treated if the army did not withhold vaccines from us. But, if we responded with violence...they would surely kill us all. I must make the choice that will allow my people some chance at survival." A pained expression crossed his face, though she couldn't see it from where she was behind him. "Even if my son despises it as weak and foolish..."

Willa exhaled a sigh, processing the man's words. "I...you're very wise, sir. I wish your son could see that."

Rains Fall puffed out a humorless little laugh. "I don't know that I am wise. But tell me...is revenge something you find yourself dwelling on, Miss Thorne...?"

She shifted uncomfortably in the saddle, looking off across the vista to their left. The air was clear and she could see for miles and miles; she hadn't realized how far up the mountain they'd climbed already. "Yes. It was all I thought about for years."

"And...did you achieve it?"

"No. Not yet. But...well, as you said, I guess I've joined a few other fights in the meantime..."

"What do you hope to accomplish from it?"

Willa knit her brows, casting her gaze back to the man riding just ahead of her. "He needs to know he can't get away with it. My brother. He's done terrible things." Her fists clenched around the reins. "There ain't no forgivin' any of it. And if I can't forgive it, what else do I have but revenge? Our sister is dead while he still galavants around with impunity. I can't stand for that."

"Revenge is never truly gratifying, Miss Thorne. Or healing. It is...a temporary luxury, and more often than not, those who seek it only end up perpetuating the cycle of needless pain and often, death. This is the same thing I have tried to teach my son. It is better to try and make peace with the way you feel and come to an understanding within yourself than to actively invite more suffering into your life...and the lives of those you love."

She considered his words in silence for a time before a small humorless laugh escaped her. "I think it might be too late for that now, sir. I had years' worth of chances to let him go, but all I could think about was huntin' him down and makin' him pay. And he's good and pissed, now. I imagine he'll be coming for me at some point."

"Well...for what it's worth, I hope you can find peace. We all have a battle being waged within us; no one can be wholly good or evil. The army aren't _all_ bad men, just as my people aren't all good. I just hope we can find a way to work this out as peacefully as possible..."

Willa nodded. "I...thank you. And likewise, I hope you can make this Colonel Favours see reason. And...if Dutch is gonna be keepin' company with your son, Charles, Arthur and I can try to keep an eye on things. Try to stop it from goin' any further."

"I appreciate that, Miss Thorne. But uh...yes, the site should be just up ahead here."

They crested another shallow rise in the mountain trail only to be met with the smoldering remains of what looked to have once been a dome-like hut constructed in the center of the path.

"What's happened!?" Eagle Flies jerked up on his horse's reins, scrambling down from the saddle in earnest to race over to the charred remnants of the site, the earth there burnt black under his feet. "Oh no. This can't be..."

Willa rode Tulip in a bit closer, sliding out of her own saddle to jog up behind him. She surveyed the scene, noting a few empty bottles strewn across the ground; other than that though, there was precious little evidence she could see. She moved past the little hut, a bit further up the trail.

"They've destroyed everything! I...I need to find the _Chanupa_..." Eagle Flies had fallen to his knees in front of the blackened hut, leaning down on his hands to try and see if there was anything salvageable inside it. He let out a plaintive grunt, levering himself to his feet and stumbling around the brittle, burnt skeletons of trees that had once adorned the little clearing in the path. "Who would do such a thing!?"

Willa had caught sight of a plume of smoke rising up from the valley on the other side of the mountain down below, and she lowered the binoculars she'd taken out to get a better look at it, glancing back at him. "I've got one idea...there's an army camp down there." Her brows furrowed. She handed him her binoculars as he clambered up next to her. "What's a _Chanupa_?"

"It is a ceremonial pipe..." He let another plaintive groan rumble up from his chest as he watched the men cavorting about down below. "Those are some of Colonel Favours' men. They must be the ones who've done this. I...had hoped we were past this..." He lowered the binoculars and handed them back to her, raising a hand to wipe his mouth as he tried to quell his anger.

She glanced at him, grimacing. "They wanna drill for oil. Somethin' tells me they ain't gonna be chivalrous in how they go about it..."

"They moved us here. They've taken everything we had. I signed three treaties myself, and they've broken _each one_. Now they've taken the last hope...now my people are going to want a war. A war we can't win..." Rains Fall clenched his fists at his sides, staring hard down at the camp.

Willa sighed, casting her own gaze back down into the valley. She chewed her lip for a few moments. "I'll get it back for you."

The older man's eyes flicked over to her. "What?"

She looked over. "I've done my share of sneakin' around, sir. And it won't be that hard. Those boys, the way they're stumblin' around down there, they obviously been drinkin' for a while already and it ain't even dinner time yet. They'll sleep hard tonight, and if I wait 'til past nightfall to creep in there, I'll only have to worry about the guards. And my guess is, they think they've pulled a real fine one on you. I doubt they tried very hard to hide that _Chanupa."_

Rains Fall regarded her with a searching, somewhat astonished gaze. "I...I don't have any money..."

Willa puffed out a little scoff and looked down to stuff the binoculars back into her satchel. "I'm no bandit mercenary. I don't want your money. Sir."

She went to turn away to whistle for Tulip but before she got too far, she felt the old man's hand gingerly touch her bicep.

"I would owe you a debt if you were able to recover our sacred items, Miss Thorne, but please...please try not to hurt anyone."

She nodded and let her hand rest on her holster. "In some fashion, I seem to think some of 'em may well deserve it, but I'll try my damndest not to. Anyway, I know how poorly I'd fair in a camp full of drunken infantrymen. I'd just as soon they never even knew I was there." She turned her head to whistle for Tulip. "You should get back to the reservation, sir. I'll be back there well before morning. If I'm not...send Charles out for me, if you would."

Rains Fall simply nodded, retracting his hand as he took a few steps to walk past her. "Thank you."

She sighed and looked back down at the good-size camp spread out below as Tulip ambled up beside her. "Don't mention it," she muttered, reaching back into her satchel to retrieve her tobacco. She had a few hours yet to wait before the sun set. Once she'd finished rolling the cigarette, she tucked it between her lips and took Tulip's reins in one hand, leading the mare further on down the winding mountain trail to where she could find a suitable place in the trees to sit and keep watch.

She didn't bother building a fire, only taking a heavier flannel shirt and her old duster out of the saddlebags when the temperature started to dip. Her thoughts drifted to Arthur frequently, wondering what he was up to; how it had gone with those kids back near Rhodes, if he'd made it back to camp yet. They'd talked a bit more in the last few days - at her insistence - about what they might do when the gang split up, but Arthur had been woefully unhelpful in the discussion. He moaned about wanting to go west again, acknowledging at the same time how he knew it was far too dangerous. She'd suggested northeast, closer to Canada; if they ever found themselves in a situation where he was recognized as a wanted man, it wouldn't take much for them to escape across the border.

New England scared him. All he could think of were massive, sprawling cities, as if New York and Boston had engulfed the entire stretch of land and left nothing between them; like everything between the great lakes and the Atlantic was a poisoned, brick and concrete wasteland. She'd told him he was insane; that most of the land in the northeast happened to be quite similar to their current hideout in Roanoke Ridge. And that did even less to allay his fears. So she'd given up for the time being, sticking that pin in her hat for another day. She had to keep reminding herself that Arthur hadn't truly been on his own in decades, and that must have been playing a part in his fears. All he knew was the group dynamic of the gang and its hierarchy; and he was never the one making the tough decisions about where they moved to next and just how, exactly, they were to accomplish that.

It seemed like neither he nor John, even as the prodigal sons, as it were, were allowed much room for critical thinking in that hierarchy Dutch had created. He and Hosea had raised them to be smart, but that seemed to extend only so far as how much they could swindle out of other swindlers and how fast they could draw their guns and exert their muscle, within reason and when the time called for it. Except something had happened in Blackwater, and the entire concept of killing within reason seemed to have been buried alongside all of the other 'noble' outlaw ideals they'd been raised to believe in.

As the youngest of the brothers, John was a brat, but he'd started actively and openly questioning Dutch long before Arthur had. She'd seen it herself back in Shady Belle, and remembered perhaps even hearing him talk about it once or twice way back at Clemens Point when they'd been deep in their cups and he'd been sure Dutch was asleep. It seemed that ever since Jack had been taken, the fracture in Arthur and John's relationship had started to mend itself as Marston had begun stepping up and acting like an honest to God _father_ to the boy.

Thinking of John and Jack made her think about Sam, and that was a whole other mess to unpack. Was she to take him under her wing, adopt him and try to guide him on a decent path into adulthood and responsibilities she knew absolutely nothing about? Christ, even if she _could_ have children of her own, she'd never thought about how woefully unprepared for it she was. All she knew was she didn't want him to spend any more time in the dynamic of the gang than was absolutely necessary; just thinking about the fact that Jack was in Lakay with the rest of them when the Pinkertons attacked made her want to be sick.

Arthur told her he was thinking about a wife and an adopted son back at O'Creagh's Run; the possibilities of it, a second chance to do right by _somebody_ in his miserable excuse for a life. The idea of that put the old familiar ache in her chest. It was something she never thought she'd have. She thought they could do it together, even though it would be difficult. They'd have to fight for it, no doubt about that. But it seemed like it was something worth fighting for, and that was what gave her hope that things would work out; they _had_ to work out. The two of them had been through too goddamn much to lose it all just when they were on the brink of possibility.

Willa sighed from under where she held the binoculars, lowering them and rubbing her eyes. Most of the men down in the valley looked to be well passed out now, many of them having stumbled off to their respective tents. The sky had been dark a few hours already, and she'd watched the way the guards patrolled around the perimeter.

She stuffed the binoculars into her satchel and stood, stretching her stiff legs. She left Tulip tethered to a tree, letting a hand trace lightly down the horse's muzzle before she made her way off through the trees towards the army camp.


	29. Beaver Hollow - The Company of Wolves

Arthur rode into Beaver Hollow just before noon, tired and starving. He'd pushed to get back after dropping that lady off at Emerald Ranch; he realized then that he'd never even thought to get her name, though admittedly it had been rather difficult to get a word in edgewise. She'd had a lot to say about Biscuit, that horse that had keeled over underneath her while she was riding.

Tilly approached him after he'd gotten Rei settled and left her to crop at the grass with the other horses. "Hey, Arthur. Got a letter for you. I know it's from that Mary..."

Arthur's brows went up in astonishment. "Mary...?" He took the envelope Tilly offered him and looked it over for a few moments.

Tilly folded her arms, looking up at him with something akin to reproach. "She ain't worth it, Arthur. You got a good woman right here." Her eyes flicked to the envelope still unopened in his hands. "You should burn it."

Arthur blinked and exhaled a little scoff. "Whatever she thinks she's got to say, it ain't enough to change my mind, Miss Tilly. Don't you worry about that. Speakin' of, where is Miss Thorne? I didn't see Tulip when I rode in."

"She went off with Charles to that reservation in Ambarino real early this mornin'. Said they'd be back in a day or two."

His brows furrowed slightly and he gave her a nod. He wondered what was going on out there that would need the both of them, but he trusted Charles; if his friend needed help with something, Arthur was glad Willa was the one he'd asked to go with him. "Well thank you, Tilly. And really, don't you worry none about this." He raised the envelope and waved it back and forth.

A small smirk turned up one corner of her mouth and she nodded as she went to walk past him. "Alright, Arthur."

His eyes returned to the envelope and he frowned before looking up again and glancing around. Before anyone else could catch him with chores or errands that needed doing, he made his way out toward the western edge of the camp, to that big log overlooking the ravine Strauss seemed to have claimed as his own since they'd landed here in the hills. It was blessedly unoccupied at the moment, so he clambered up over it one leg at a time and sat down heavily as he tore off one side of the envelope and slid out the folded up piece of paper from inside it.

It felt just a touch heavier than it should have, so he tossed the envelope aside and tilted the letter, watching as a small object slid out into his open palm. It was the ring. The one he'd given Mary all those years ago, when their dreams of a life together had almost come to fruition. She'd kept it? His heart lurched despite himself, and he quickly pocketed the small object before unfolding the letter and reading what she had to say.

 _My dear Arthur,_

 _You told me things were over, and after looking at the newspapers, I understand why. I don't imagine you'll receive this letter, but I nonetheless must send it. Arthur, oh, Arthur. I was just starting to dream the silliest and softest of dreams. I miss you. And I will always miss you. But it seems you cannot live any other way. When I am with you, the world makes sense, but when we are apart, I see clearly that your world is not a world from which one can escape. I am so sorry, for everything. For everything long ago and for trying to start up that business once again. There's a good man within you, Arthur, but he is wrestling with a giant. And the giant wins, time and time again. You've broken my heart, again, and I fear I have broken yours. And for that, I will never forgive myself. I enclose a ring you gave me many years ago, when we were both young. Not because I don't like it, but because I care for it far too much and it reminds me too much of you. I hope, one day you will find some people in love who can use this for it kept me thinking of you all these years. I hope, by returning it to you, I can finally be free._

 _Goodbye,_

 _Mary_

Arthur scowled. He folded the letter back up and let the hand holding it hang at his side. Generous of her, he thought, not to sell the ring for money to escape her bastard father. Though he almost wished she had. _Your world is not a world from which one can escape. The giant wins, time and time again._ Her words left a bitter taste in his mouth. They had loved each other fiercely, once upon a time. She had seen parts of him he had showed to precious few others in his life. Was this all he truly was, narrowed down so succinctly to a few words on a page?

That sentiment sent him hurtling back to a dark place. He wanted Wilhelmina to come back. He needed her reassurance, but she was not there to give it. He was worried that he'd break her heart too, just like Mary. Would it happen, if he couldn't break away from Dutch? Would she get tired of waiting on him to make the inevitable choice? Would she tell him before she left, or would she simply disappear and leave him wondering, gracing him only with a letter much like this one weeks or even months later?

"Ah, Mr. Morgan. Just the man I was looking for."

Arthur's mouth twitched. He glanced back over his shoulder as Strauss approached him, his nefarious little notebook clutched in one hand. "Herr Strauss..."

"Are you perhaps available for some work?" Strauss came around the log, taking a seat beside him and opening up the ledger on his lap.

Arthur sighed. "Debtors?"

"Yes."

"I guess." He opened his scout jacket and stuffed the letter into one of the breast pockets.

"Your commitment to your duties is admirable," Strauss replied somewhat snidely.

Arthur leaned away from Strauss, his temper flaring. "Well then, why not have one of the boys do it?"

"I tried. They lacked your... _vigor_."

Arthur narrowed his eyes, deflating slightly. "Vigor, huh? We'll see about that. Alright, tell me who I'm goin' after..."

He parted from Strauss a few minutes later, leaving the old Austrian only with the knowledge that he'd get around to it when he could.

"Mr. Morgan!" Sam came running up to him as he was busy finally getting himself a bowl of Pearson's meager stew. Someone would have to go out hunting again soon.

"Hey, kid. How you gettin' on?" Arthur stood up from beside the cook fire, not being able to resist spooning some of the stew into his mouth. He was famished.

"I'm real bored. Jack's mad at me, and Miss Willa's gone..."

Arthur knit his brows, swallowing another spoonful. "Why's Jack mad at you?"

"I don't know, I guess 'cause I get to go out of camp sometimes. To go and visit Mr. Sinclair, or practice riding. I told him he's too little for all that stuff, and he got real angry and told me I was just mean." Sam reached up and scratched the top of his head. "He's just a kid. I ain't tryin' to be mean, but it gets real annoying sometimes."

Arthur chuckled. "He is just a kid, that's why you gotta be easy on 'im. He'll get over it soon enough. Ya know, it's lucky folk here are so inclined to teach you all them things. Kieran, he's been takin' you out ridin'?"

Sam nodded, stuffing his hands into the pockets of the jacket Willa had bought for him. "Yeah. He's real nice. He's real good with the horses, too. They like him a lot. I wish they liked me as much."

"Well, you just gotta spend more time with 'em. Horses are real good at readin' people, just like dogs. You can tell a lot about folk just from how animals are around 'em. And Cain likes you. Horses are just...smarter. Takes 'em longer to start trustin'."

"Could we go out with your horse, Mr. Morgan?" Sam looked up at him eagerly. "Miss Willa was supposed to take me back to visit Mr. Sinclair before she left with Charles and Dutch and that other man with the funny name."

Arthur cocked an eyebrow at the boy as he drained the last dregs of stew from the bowl. "Other man with the funny name?"

"Yeah. Eagle-somethin'. I...sorta listened to 'em while they were talkin'."

"Eagle Flies? He was here, in camp?" Arthur walked over to the chuck wagon, depositing his dishes in the wash bin as Sam followed close at his heels.

"Yeah! He was real upset. Somethin' about the army, and their horses gettin' stolen. And Dutch really wanted to help. He got real excited about the whole thing."

Arthur sighed, reaching up to rub at the back of his neck. That didn't bode well; what the hell was Dutch doing getting involved with the Wapiti? He'd have to get the full story from somebody later on, because it appeared as if Dutch was also still away; his tent was wide open and empty. With no other pressing concerns, he supposed he could take the boy out to O'Creagh's Run and maybe convince old Hamish Sinclair to do some hunting, kill a few birds all with one stone. It sounded a hell of a lot better than going to collect Strauss' damned debt money, dwelling on his own thoughts and fixating on Mary's letter in the meantime. He settled his hands on his hips and looked down at the boy. "I see. Well, for future reference kid, folk don't usually take too kindly to bein' listened in on. C'mon, then. Let's go see what old Mr. Sinclair's up to today."

They made their way over to where the horses stood, mounting up and heading west. Arthur made some small talk with the boy; asking how things had been, if Micah and Bill had been leaving him well alone, if he still liked living there with the gang.

"I think I like it more than Jack does. He says it scares him. He didn't even see what it looked like before! When those men had Miss Willa, it _was_ scary. The men who was already livin' in there..." Sam shuddered from behind Arthur at the memory of hearing the Murfree Brood being rounded up and shot down inside those caves; the sounds had echoed out like nothing he'd ever heard before.

"Yeah, I'm sure it weren't pretty. You did good keepin' yourself hid during that whole thing. That fella who took her; her brother, Everett...you ever see him around, or hear about him, or anything, you come let me know. Okay?"

Sam nodded vehemently from behind him as they rode onto Hamish's property beside the lake. "Are you gonna kill him?"

Arthur scowled as he pulled up on the reins and guided Rei to a stop next to Buell at the little hitching post. "I ain't advocatin' killin' folk...but uh, that does seem to be the plan. He's dangerous. So if you see him you best stay away from him, you hear me?"

Sam nodded again as Arthur hoisted a leg up and over and slid down off the saddle. "Yeah..." He took the hand Arthur extended to help him down, and they walked up the little wooden steps to Hamish's front door.

Arthur knocked with his knuckles twice, and the door opened a few seconds later.

"Ah, Arthur! And young Mr. Bellefleur! Well, come on in!" Hamish stepped aside to let them into his little cabin, leaning heavily on a wooden cane. His prosthetic sat across the room, propped against his little dining table.

"Hamish." Arthur tipped his hat at the old man, pressing a palm at the boy's shoulder to send him in first. "Hope we ain't disturbin' you. Was thinkin' of takin' the boy huntin', thought you might be interested too."

Hamish broached the gap and gave Arthur's hand a warm, friendly shake once the two of them were inside the cabin. "Oh, I'm always interested! There's this _huge_ she-wolf been stalkin' me the last few nights I been out, but...well, how much huntin' you done, boy?"

Sam stood up a little straighter, resting his hand against the handle of the hunting knife at his hip. "I got some rabbits and some pheasants. Even shot a turkey outside our camp. I could hunt a wolf."

Arthur's eyes met Hamish's when the old man looked up at him, his mouth slanting into a critical shape. "I don't know. Maybe we could go track some white-tails. They're a little less...hungry."

Hamish chuckled and nodded, taking a seat in one of the chairs at the table. He set his cane down and grabbed up the old wooden leg, leaning down to fasten it onto his knee. "Sure, sure. Lots of deer all around here. Can you folks make use of the meat?"

Arthur nodded, settling his hip against the dining table and crossing his arms. "Oh, sure. We got some mouths to feed."

"And where is Miss Wilhelmina this fine day?" Hamish stood once the prosthetic was fixed onto his leg, stretching a bit and twisting to make sure it was secured properly.

"She's off on some business in Ambarino for a day or two, so it's just the two of us today. Ain't that right, kid?"

Sam nodded. He turned back towards Arthur quickly, mouth turning down into a defiant grimace. "I can hunt a wolf, Mr. Morgan. They're just big dogs, ain't they?"

"No, son," Hamish spoke up, reaching back to grab his hunting rifle from where it leaned against the counter behind him. "Wolves are much more than dogs. Dogs are all stupid for love and affection; not that it's any of their fault, mind...it's just what we've done to 'em." Hamish limped past the two, making his way back to the front door with that rifle clutched in one hand. "Wolves are what they're descended from, true enough. Before they got so reliant on us. _Fierce. Smart._ Top-tier predators is what they are. Not a thing one so young as yourself needs to go chasin' after. Not yet."

Arthur nodded. "Yeah. What he said." He patted the boy's shoulder again to send him off after Hamish, and they all made their way out of the cabin. Stopping by the horses, Arthur paused to admire Buell for a moment. He was certainly one of the most regal-looking stallions Arthur had ever seen, and by God he had an attitude to match.

He rummaged in his satchel for a peppermint, went to hold it out, and then stopped short. Second-guessing himself, he turned to Sam and held his hand out to give the little candy to the boy instead. "Here, kid. Give 'im this. Somethin' tells me if Buell decides he's taken a shine to you, you'll do fine wit' just about any other horse you ever come across. Just be confident. Don't show 'im you're scared. Don't be too fast, neither. Horses prefer things cool 'n calm."

Sam took the peppermint, looking up between Arthur and Hamish for a moment before casting his gaze up at the formidable golden-colored stallion. He opened his palm flat, taking a step forward in front of the horse, so that Buell could see his approach. He extended his hand out. Buell blinked, eyeing him and tossing his head up indignantly.

"Ah, quit your bitchin' you old nag." Hamish waved a hand at the horse dismissively as he walked around to Buell's other side.

One of the stallion's eyes flicked to the side to watch Hamish and he stamped a hoof into the dirt, almost as if to say 'make me, why don't you?' Finally Buell angled his head back toward Sam and he lowered his muzzle, taking a few good whiffs of the candy. Sam couldn't help a little quirk of his mouth as he felt Buell's hot breath snuffing against his skin. His expression widened into a full-blown grin when Buell finally lipped the peppermint up from his palm greedily, as if he'd decided he'd waited long enough.

Arthur chuckled, placing a hand on Rei's neck and patting her a few times. "There you go, kid. You're well on your way to makin' a new friend."

"That was how Miss Willa got him to come back the first day we met Mr. Sinclair. She had to feed him a whole pack of oatcakes just to get him to follow her!"

Arthur's chuckle turned into a more hearty laugh at that, and he shook his head as he moved his hand down toward the saddle horn, getting ready to mount up. "Sounds about right."

Hamish pulled himself up into Buell's saddle, casting his gaze down at Sam. "You wanna ride him?"

Sam blinked. "R-really?"

"Sure." Hamish extended his arm down for the boy, taking a firm grip and pulling Sam up onto the saddle behind him. Buell nickered and flicked his head again. "Shut up..." Hamish leaned forward and gave the stallion a few rough but good-natured pats before picking the reins up and urging the horse to turn away from the hitching post.

They rode up into the hills north of O'Creagh's Run, setting a leisurely pace and chatting on the way. Hamish wanted to take them higher up, so that they could use a good outcropping of rock as a perch to wait for any deer that might come through down below. Arthur liked the plan, thinking it might be a good way to introduce the boy to hunting bigger game. Much like he'd had to learn with Charles just a short time ago, deer were an excellent place to start as long as you weren't in the path of an angry stag.

They heard a low howl from somewhere off to the east, and Hamish whipped his head in the direction of the sound, his eyes narrowing. Sam's eyes went wide; growing up in St. Denis, he'd never heard anything more than the yaps of small domesticated dogs. And this was not that.

Arthur looked over at Hamish from where he rode beside them, brows drawing down.

"The she-wolf..." Hamish shook his head, glancing over at Arthur. "Not to worry. She ain't dumb enough to get too close. Here, let's get up this rise and we can set up. Buell loves hills, don't you boy? He eats 'em up for breakfast!"

They rode up through a stand of trees to an open rock face, dismounting and removing their rifles from their horses. Arthur handed Sam his varmint rifle, taking up a position beside the boy so that he could show him how to handle the gun properly. Sam took a few practice shots at a can of beans Arthur set up several yards away; Willa had already spent a day showing him how to use her pistol, so the leap to a larger gun didn't seem too difficult for him. Once they were comfortable enough, the three of them perched at the edge of the outcrop and waited. Arthur and Hamish both had binoculars, and they scoured the land down below for any sign of a bevy of does moving through the area.

They must have been there for close to two hours. Sam started to get awfully antsy, and Arthur had to shush the poor kid more than once, trying to explain as patiently as possible in whispers that wild animals did not appreciate the sound of human voices. Sam grumbled and quieted, switching the knee he rested on and fidgeting with the rifle.

Hamish jolted suddenly beside them, reaching out blindly to tap Arthur's shoulder and point down toward where he kept his binoculars trained. A small group of does had just started to emerge from a break in the trees way off to their left. Arthur brought his binoculars up to look down there, the corner of his mouth curling up in a little smirk. "There you are. C'mon, girls...Sam, you see 'em down there? Think you can get a shot? Heart or the head's what you're aimin' for, try to bring 'em down clean..."

Sam brought the rifle up against his shoulder, peering down the sights towards where Arthur and Hamish were both looking. He shook his head slightly, glancing over at Arthur and muttering in a whisper, "I don't know. They're awfully far away..."

"That's okay. Just wait. They might move closer. Keep 'em in your sights." Arthur lowered the binoculars, reaching behind to where he'd set his rolling block rifle. It had a scope on it, but it was a lot more powerful than the one he'd given Sam, and he was nervous it would be too much for the kid to start out with. He kept it at his side, figuring he'd only have to use it if Sam didn't end up making a clean shot.

They suddenly heard a snarling from down below and flashes of movement caught their eyes through the trees. Branches and twigs snapped as a pack of wolves burst out into full view, spreading out in a neat formation to surround the does in the hopes of cornering one out of the group and bringing it down. Sam let the rifle fall down by his knee, eyes going wide as he caught sight of the predators. They were barking and calling to each other, circling the does and closing in fast. The deer were keen to the movements of their pursuers; they broke and began running, but it didn't take long for one wolf to come up on the last doe in the line, making a mad dash at one of her back legs and ripping into it fiercely with strong jaws and sharp teeth.

Neither Arthur nor Sam noticed Hamish getting unsteadily to his feet from beside them, turning his head to look behind and down the hill, walking over in that direction. He thought he'd heard something, though the mewling of the deer and the barking and snarling of the wolves down below had become quite the discordant cacophony.

Arthur had set his rifle down to watch the show, a barely audible "holy shit" leaving his lips as two other wolves descended on the struggling doe, one latching onto one of her front legs to bring her down and keep her down while the other sunk fangs into the tender meat of her neck.

"Hey!"

Arthur whipped around just in time to see Hamish getting barreled aside by the biggest goddamn grey wolf he'd ever seen. Hamish's rifle flew from his hands, hit the ground and went off with a deafening bang as he tumbled down onto his back, hollering at the beast as it kept on going right past him - and straight towards Arthur and Sam. Arthur's eyes went wide as saucers as he realized what was happening and he managed to push Sam out of the way just as the wolf made a running leap. He caught a glimpse of cold yellow eyes and ropy strings of saliva flying from its open maw before he screwed his eyes shut and brought his arm up in front of his face to try and protect himself.

"Arthur!" Hamish was trying his best to lever himself up off the ground, but he couldn't get to his gun quick enough.

"Goddamnit!" Arthur grunted as he felt the wolf's vice-like jaws clamp down on his forearm, gritting his teeth and trying to get a leg up underneath the thing to push it off. The wolf's massive head thrashed back and forth and he was forced onto his back under the animal's weight. He finally opened his eyes and tried to reach across himself with his left hand for the knife on his other hip, but the wolf's enormous paws were doing an overwhelmingly good job of keeping him down.

Arthur felt his sleeve starting to soak with blood and he redoubled his efforts to try and grab for the knife. The wolf snarled and growled loudly. He felt like the goddamn thing was only seconds away from dislocating his arm with the way it was thrashing. Suddenly another gunshot went off right next to him and he felt a fine spray of blood splashing across his face to the accompaniment of a sharp yelp. He finally felt the pressure release from his forearm. One of the wolf's back paws came down painfully on his thigh as it stumbled and struggled to keep itself up. Arthur grunted and finally found the wherewithal to shove the huge animal off, sucking in a breath and flopping back down against the ground with his mouth working like a fish. "Christ..."

Sam was on his knees a few feet away, the butt of the varmint rifle still pressed to his shoulder. He was shaking. "Holy shit..."

"Arthur! My God, Samuel, I think you just saved the poor bastard's life! You alright?!" Hamish hobbled up beside the two of them, peering down at Arthur.

"Just about..." Arthur looked around a little dazedly, blinking and lifting his left hand to poke a finger into his ear. It was ringing something fierce from that gun being fired so close. He winced and held up his other arm, trying to get a look at how badly he'd been torn up.

Hamish looked down at the dead wolf, shaking his head and letting out a low whistle. "Damn. Big son of a bitch. Look at him. Proud thing..."

Arthur finally sat himself up, breath still coming ragged as he turned to look at the huge animal. " _Scary_ thing..."

Hamish chortled a little nervously and stepped over Arthur's legs to go to Sam, gently coaxing the rifle out of his hands and setting it down on the ground. "Well, you _were_ after a hunt..." He gave the boy a reassuring pat on the back before offering Arthur a hand to help him to his feet. "And what do you know, the boy got himself a wolf after all."

"M-mr. Morgan, you're...Jesus...!" Sam's face paled considerably at the sight of all that blood.

Arthur nodded and pressed his left palm firmly over his right forearm, trying to put pressure there to quell the bleeding. "Yeah, I know. Bastard got me pretty good. There's a spare shirt in my saddlebags. And some whiskey. Mind goin' to grab 'em, kid?" Arthur glanced over to where they'd left the horses, but they must have bolted down the hill and further into the trees when that big bastard came up through. He tilted his head up and whistled for Rei.

Sam's eyes stayed focused on Arthur's arm for a few more moments before he finally seemed to snap out of his morbid fascination. He nodded a few times and got to his feet to trot off down the hill.

Hamish took a step closer to Arthur, peering down at the wound and reaching up to pry his hand away from it. "Let's get your sleeve off, see how bad he got ya. Hopefully the whiskey will kill any infection that might set in..."

Arthur allowed the old vet to help him get the mangled sleeve rolled up, growling and grunting through most of it. He flexed his hand anxiously, trying to make sure the muscle was still intact.

"Yeah...he got you pretty good. We're gonna need to head back to the house, get you stitched up." Hamish looked up and around, giving his own sharp whistle to summon Buell back. "The kid did good. Sometimes, at that age, it's hard to tell if they got the grit in 'em to think quick like that."

Arthur had to nod his agreement; it was hard not to have flashbacks to Six Points Cabin, when he'd have been dead if not for Kieran, and then again at Macomb's End, when Willa had been just in time to save him from getting his brains blown out. Christ, when had things gotten so sloppy?

Sam returned with Rei a few minutes later, Buell trailing along behind at a leisurely distance. Hamish took the whiskey and cleaned the ragged wounds in Arthur's arm with it, causing much grief and gnashing of teeth in the process. They got the shirt securely tied to staunch the bloodflow, then Arthur had to help Hamish load the wolf's carcass up onto Buell's back; there was absolutely no way in hell the old vet was leaving without a trophy. They mounted up and headed back down toward O'Creagh's Run.

Sam rode with Arthur this time. He'd been real quiet for a good portion of the ride, but finally he spoke up in a rather meek voice once Hamish's cabin was in sight. "Mr. Morgan, I, um...thank you."

Arthur glanced back over his shoulder as they rode, shaking his head and letting out a low humorless chuckle. "Nah. I'm the one should be thankin' you, kid. That could've been a hell of a lot worse if you hadn't kept your head. I might have, uh...underestimated you a little bit. M'sorry."

Sam blinked. "But, I...I wouldn't have even known what to do if it hadn't been for you and Miss Willa teachin' me. I mean, you...you got hurt savin' me."

Arthur shrugged and shook his head. "You see why she wanted you to know how to defend yourself? You never know what can happen...it's a good lesson, I guess. Ain't just men that'll try and get the drop on a fella while his back's turned..."

They got back to the house and unloaded the wolf into a small shed to give Buell's hindquarters a rest and keep it from being picked at by scavengers, opting to give Arthur's wounds a proper washing and some stitches first. Arthur watched with furrowed brows as Hamish expertly tugged the little needle back and forth through his skin, wincing now and again and cursing under his breath. "You learn that in the war?"

Hamish nodded, glancing up briefly. "Yeah. Weren't no field nurse or nothin' like that, but you learn a thing or two about keepin' yourself and your buddies alive when you're out there doin' the grisly work of killin' other men. All things considered, you got off pretty easy. You'll end up with some interestin' scars alright, but you sure as hell ain't gonna lose your arm."

Arthur cocked an eyebrow, reaching across the table to grab the bottle of whiskey they'd brought inside and taking a long drink from it. "Yeah, can't say I ever seen nor done any killin' quite like that. Sounds like bad business..."

Hamish tied off the final stitch and snapped the excess neatly with his hunting knife, taking the bottle from where Arthur had set it back on the table and pouring out a shot's worth into a cup. He dropped the needle in to let it sit before going to the cupboard in the corner to rummage for some clean bandages. Arthur sat back in his chair, letting his head fall back against the wall and closing his eyes for a few moments. Now that the shock of adrenaline had worn off, he was even more exhausted than he had been when he'd got back to Beaver Hollow earlier in the day. Evening was drawing on quickly, and he knew they should try to get back before night was truly upon them; Roanoke Ridge was not a safe place to travel through at night with the Murfrees still lurking in the hills.

After he was bandaged Arthur thanked Hamish for the eventful hunting trip and for stitching him up, even offering to pay for his services but the old man just waved him away with a dismissive scoff. He was just glad Arthur and the boy had ended up all right in the end, no thanks to his tired old reflexes. He promised Sam the pelt as a trophy for killing the huge wolf, as long as he could keep the head to mount up on his wall. They agreed that this was a fair trade, and Sam rode off with Arthur feeling just a bit more pleased with himself.

He fell into a contemplative silence for a while as they headed east, finally speaking up when they were well away from Hamish's little cabin by the lake. "Mr. Morgan?"

Arthur glanced over his shoulder. "How about just Arthur? I ain't exactly sure how fond I am of 'Mr. Morgan.' What's on your mind, Sam?"

"The Pinkertons. Um...I saw 'em in St. Denis a lot the last couple months. They're like police, right? Why...why are they after you?"

Arthur fell silent for a little bit, looking straight ahead as he rode, trying to come up with a suitable answer to give to the eleven year old boy sitting behind him. "I, uh...this gang, we're...well, we're outlaws. And...we done some real stupid things recently." He was silent for a few more moments before finally continuing in a lower tone. "Killed a lot of people...for a lot of dumb reasons. My whole life, really, I was told we only kill who we need to to survive. But, for a while now, things've been gettin'...out of control. And I ain't quite sure how to stop it."

Sam watched the forest pass by slowly as they rode, his brows knitted in consternation. "'Cause of Dutch? And Micah?"

Arthur sighed. "Miss Thorne been airin' her grievances with you, huh?"

Sam shrugged, though Arthur couldn't see it. "A little. But I hear things. Miss Tilly, and Miss Mary-Beth and Miss Karen...they all seem real scared. And Mr. Williamson comes around and yells at Miss Abigail sometimes about not bein' loyal enough. And Micah, when he's around, he just...sits and watches and has this nasty look on his face..."

Arthur harrumphed a bit, shaking his head. "It's...it ain't a good place we're in right now. I know you ain't got much back in St. Denis, but that's why we kept askin' if you'd rather go back there. Beaver Hollow...hell, this _gang_...ain't no place for a kid. Never has been, really. But I was raised in it, thought it was pretty good for a while, I guess..."

"You were...?"

Arthur nodded. "Dutch and this other fella you never got to meet, Hosea...they picked me up when I was just a few years older than you are now. I was livin' on the streets, just like you. No parents, never got no schoolin' 'cept for what they taught me. And they taught me how to lie and cheat and steal and kill. And Miss Thorne, she's...well, you know. She ain't like that. She wants somethin' else. She _deserves_ somethin' else. Somethin' better. And you do, too. I'd like to get you both out of this, if I can..."

Sam's voice fell low, a little waver in it. "What if the Pinkertons get you...?"

"I would prefer that didn't happen...but if it does, I'll do everything I can to make sure you and her are safe. I promise. Two of you are innocent in all of this. Just like the girls back at camp, the Reverend, and Abigail and Jack, too."

"Miss Willa wouldn't be very happy if that happened..."

Arthur huffed out another sigh. "And I surely do not want her to be unhappy. I...care about her very much. But sometimes, I...I think it'd be better if she just took you and made a run for it."

"Why couldn't everyone do that?"

Arthur's mouth quirked. "Well, uh...we could, I guess, and that seems to be the general plan, but...all of us stickin' together and followin' Dutch's plans and runnin' when things go wrong ain't been workin' out so well recently. Miss Thorne, she's been tryin' to convince folks they need to leave, that it's better if we split up and disappear, and I'm really startin' to agree wit' her...but I can't help feelin' like this whole thing ain't somethin' I get to run away from. I ain't innocent like you and her. I'm, uh...I guess I'm a little scared to think I done bad just about my whole life, and somehow good things could still happen for me."

"...I only ever seen you do good things."

Arthur snorted. "You've known me all of two weeks, kid. Not even."

"I never did bad things, and my parents still died...I didn't...didn't have nothin' good til Miss Willa saved me." Sam grimaced, looking away out at the forest. "If bad things happen to good people...then why can't good things happen to people who've been bad?"

Arthur blinked. He'd never really thought about that. "I, uh...I don't know."

"Do you _like_ doin' bad things?"

"...No."

"So...if Miss Willa makes you happy, and you don't wanna do bad things anymore, and...and she decides to leave, you'll go with her?"

"Well, of course I _want_ to, but it just ain't that simple. I got to make sure the others can still get out of this. I got...responsibilities. I gotta try and make sure Dutch and Micah don't get anybody else killed..."

"But..." Sam furrowed his brows, glancing at Arthur's shoulders in front of him. "Why's it your responsibility?"

"'Cause they're family. Even if it feels like it's all fallin' apart, I gotta try. I can't just run out on those people."

"So, if you make sure Jack and Miss Abigail and all those other people are safe, then we can leave...together?"

Arthur swallowed a small lump in his throat, not sure suddenly why he felt his chest tighten a bit at the boy's question. He really seemed to want to stick with Wilhelmina, and by proxy, Arthur himself. The kid had absolutely no idea what he could be getting into, yet he was still putting his hope into the two of them doing what was right. Something lightened a bit within him at the thought that Sam trusted him that much. It might have had everything to do with what had happened to them just a few hours earlier, but Arthur decided he should take it either way. As much as he wanted to rebel against it, push the boy away for his own safety, some burgeoning feeling of pride stopped him from doing so. "Yeah. The three of us, we'll get somewhere safe. If you, uh, don't get tired of us, that is..."

"I almost got killed by a wolf the size of a horse today. I don't know if tired's the right word for it..."

Arthur huffed out a little chuckle, shaking his head. "Well then, if we ain't scared you off first. That better? That might have been a surprise bit of bad business we had earlier, but like I said...I'll do everything I can to keep you safe. Okay? Just don't forget, you saved me today too. Whenever we can, we help each other. And we'll get through this..."

"Okay."

"Alright." Arthur nodded as Rei carried them into the waters of the Kamassa so that they could cross to the other side of the river. It was just starting to get dark, but they were very nearly back to camp. He let go of the reins with his right hand, flexing it in and out of a fist to idly test the muscles once more. The wolf's teeth had punctured and torn, and the stitched-up wounds still hurt like hell, but they had made it through. He had to hope their luck would only hold out through the coming days.


	30. Beaver Hollow - Burning Bridges

Hi y'all! I just wanted to (finally) give a shoutout now that we're into the 30th chapter to everyone who's read and commented on this, it makes me thrilled to know that people have been enjoying it! Thank you all so much! :D

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Dutch was back in camp by the next morning, and he was indeed in a bit of a tizzy over the possibilities that seemed to lay with his new friend Eagle Flies. He claimed to have grand plans involving helping him and other young warriors from the tribe strike back at the army; nothing big, he assured, but something that would cause enough of a show to hopefully divert attention away from the gang.

Arthur already didn't like the sound of that, but he wasn't given much time to argue. Bill and Micah had already ridden out for Van Horn in the early hours, ready to strike a blow at another of the hydra's heads by intercepting an army wagon loaded with explosives on its way down to St. Denis.

Dutch wanted Arthur to be the third man on the job, and so he'd ridden southeast after a meager breakfast and a few quick words with John. Apparently Micah had already tapped him for helping transport the dynamite once they got hold of it, and he was supposed to meet up with them later in the day.

There was still no sign of Wilhelmina and Charles, so Arthur lingered around camp for as long as he could before Dutch shooed him off. He was in an unpleasant mood already when he reached the old farmhouse outside of Van Horn where Bill and Micah had decided to rendezvous.

"Ah, there he is...old lapdog Morgan." Micah looked up at Arthur from under the brim of his old white hat as he approached the porch of the abandoned house where the two men sat.

"Shut up." Arthur squared himself in front of Micah, hooking his thumbs into his gun belt.

"Was you followed?"

Arthur's eyes narrowed and he leaned forward indignantly. " _Excuse me?"_

 _"Was. You._ _Followed_?" Micah leaned forward on the step, speaking in overt, pointed annunciations like Arthur was a dumb mutt that hadn't learned to heel. He sensed Micah's particular joy in using his own old rhetoric against him, and it made his insides crawl.

They'd gotten into it soon after that, spitting back and forth at each other until Arthur had hauled back with a fist and would have broken his nose if not for Bill stepping between them.

Arthur didn't understand why the hell they needed to blow up Bacchus Bridge with this dynamite in the first place, and he was starting to get awfully tired of being kept out of Dutch's plans. Granted, he'd been at camp very little as of late, but that wasn't a big change from how things had run over the course of the last year; something else was happening between Arthur and Dutch, like he'd slipped a ship across the sea and left Arthur back on the other shore to swim and try to keep up, knowing full well it was an impossible task.

Was Dutch really so threatened by Wilhelmina that he would purposefully push Arthur away because of it? After all the years of faithfulness, after Eliza and Isaac and the heartache and rage and hardening, after Annabelle, after Bessie, after Hosea? They had been through everything, together. But he had been the one to bring her back to camp, not Dutch. She owed nothing to Dutch, not really, and that seemed to quietly infuriate him. She had insinuated herself into his gang, and Arthur had to wonder how much Micah's whispering had influenced Dutch's paranoia on the subject.

Maybe he was looking at it the wrong way; maybe this was quickly becoming the excuse he needed to finally tell Dutch he was done with all of it. They were cornered in that cave, scrounging for anything that would buy them time to escape, and if Dutch wanted another man to be his second, why was Arthur so hellbent on fighting it?

The answer came readily enough; he still loved Dutch. No matter how unscrupulous the man became, the core of Arthur's being for the last twenty years had centered almost entirely on pleasing that man. His affection and approval was like a drug, and Arthur knew for a fact he was not the only one who had succumbed to it. Dutch fed off his people's unerring loyalty, and Arthur was beginning to worry that part of his recklessness as of late had stemmed from Dutch growing fat off of too much of it. It was almost like he thought he was invincible, which didn't make any sense in the wake of Hosea being gunned down. Nothing made any sense.

He'd tried to talk to Bill about it when they rode into Van Horn, but he'd received nothing but bluster and the same old dogma that amounted to little but blind loyalty. If he hadn't been so distracted, he would have insisted they _didn't_ hit the wagon in the middle of the goddamn town, but before he knew it they were arguing about who was going to stop the thing and Arthur was grabbing the rifle out of Bill's hands, pulling up his bandana and running for adequate cover as the convoy made its way around the corner at the north end of town.

They'd had to shoot their way out, as was usual these days, and it was a lucky break they hadn't been blown to kingdom come by a stray bullet hitting their stolen cargo. Bill drove the wagon back up to Beaver Hollow once Arthur had dispatched their pursuers, and they stopped just short of the trail that led up in when they saw Micah and John waiting for them.

Micah stepped out into the middle of the road, the horses coming to a stop just in front of him and tossing their heads. "You got it?"

"Yes, we got it. What the hell you think's in the back of this wagon? Guarma Rum?" Arthur replied in an acerbic drawl as he clambered down.

Micah tilted his head, shooting him an exaggerated frown. "What's wrong, Arthur?"

"Nothin' at all, _boss..."_ Arthur narrowed his eyes as Micah brushed past him to go check out the spoils in the back.

Micah told John to take the wagon out to Bacchus Bridge, sending Bill off back to camp with a little pat on his shoulders. "You go on ahead. I need to speak with Arthur. Good work, son!"

Arthur sneered, half-turning and crossing his arms. " _Son.._ _.?"_ he muttered under his breath. He eyed Micah as he approached, cocking an eyebrow as one of Micah's hands came up and fell heavily on his shoulder. "What's goin' on...?"

Micah started walking, urging Arthur to keep pace before his hand fell away to sway at his side. "Listen...I know we ain't always seen eye to eye, and uh...you find me irritatin', and a threat. And I like to annoy you. But right now, I need _better_ from you, Arthur."

Arthur stopped in his tracks, turning to face him with a disgruntled sneer and a rude comment at the tip of his tongue.

Micah stopped as well and put his hands up in a placating gesture. "I ain't the bad guy you think I am. But, I am a survivor. Stick with me, and you'll live..."

"You know, that's funny, Micah. 'Cause it seems to me the longer we stick wit' you, the deeper into this shit we seem to be diggin' ourselves. Killin' innocent folk to steal dynamite and blow up a bridge? It don't make any sense!"

Micah flashed him back a sneer of his own, sucking in a loud breath. "It will, cowpoke. Once we get the plan for the train worked out, you'll see. I think I know your problem. Your little filly there has turned you _soft_."

"Bullshit. I ain't ever wanted to shoot innocent people and we done far too goddamn much of it since _you_ came along!"

Micah leaned in, his hackles rising. "Why you think Dutch is relying on others of us now? You've shown your true colors. Turnin' all shades of yellow just 'cause some little harlot offered you her cunt? What, you think you're in _love_ now, Morgan? Like in one of Mary-Beth's stupid little books, you think your love is gonna redeem you? There ain't no redeemin' the likes of us, and the sooner you pull your head out of your ass and realize that, the better!"

Arthur grit his teeth and jabbed a finger into Micah's chest. "You son of a bitch, all you done is talk shit and whip Dutch into a goddamn frenzy! I should kill you right now if I knew what was good for us!"

Micah spread his arms at his sides, looking back and forth up the quiet forest road, egging him on with the assurance they were alone. "Then do it, cowpoke! Go on and shoot me, finish your little knight's quest, and die like a _goddamn dog_ when the Pinkertons show up for all of you 'cause you's too goddamn _yellow_ to do what needs _to...be...done..."_

Arthur's other hand had already made its way toward the butt of his gun, but he stopped with great effort, closing his eyes for a few moments to gather himself. He sighed out a heavy breath, casting his gaze up at Micah. He wanted to, very badly, but he knew the other man was as fast of a draw as he was. Micah was a goddamn instigator if there ever was one, but Arthur knew well enough at this point that he wouldn't tempt fate so openly without the chops to back it up. "Then what is it? That _needs to be done?"_

Micah straightened up, suddenly lighthearted again. The man's mood could swing like a damn pendulum. "Well the bridge is probably a two-man job. You should go help Marston. Dutch and I got more plannin' to do. There's a _big_ picture here, Arthur..." Micah backed away from him towards where Baylock waited patiently at the side of the road.

Arthur watched the man retreat until he finally mounted up and rode off up the trail towards their camp, shooting a little self-satisfied wave back over his shoulder. Arthur cursed under his breath, shaking his head and turning to spit into the dirt and whistle for Llamrei. He had some things he needed to say to John anyway. Now was as good a time as any, and they would be blessedly alone while they worked to set up that dynamite.

Willa and Charles rode back into camp much later that evening. They'd both stopped after they left the Wapiti to gawk at what had befallen the Bacchus Bridge; they could see it way down below from where they'd crossed over the Dakota up by Donner Falls, Charles having spotted it - or rather, the lack of it - out of the corner of his eye. They'd idly chatted about what could have happened, neither of them knowing it had been Arthur and John that had sent the railway bridge plummeting into the ravine down below.

Sadie had just pulled Arthur aside when the two of them rode in, making idle small talk in something of a nervous manner. When she spotted Wilhelmina and Charles, she nodded her head in their direction and Arthur was only too happy to oblige. It had been four days since they'd seen each other, and after his spats with Micah and that letter from Mary and all the rest of it, seeing her was like a breath of life reentering his lungs.

Arthur and Sadie nodded to Charles as he made his way into camp to grab some food. Willa looked tired, but a soft smile crossed her features when she caught sight of Arthur in the gloom of the evening that had fallen over the hills. "Hey..."

He stopped in front of her, curling a hand around the back of her neck and pulling her in close so he could bury his face into her hair. "Hey..." He pulled back just enough so that he could lean down and plant a kiss on her lips, to which she responded eagerly. It made his chest feel full up, almost to the point of aching.

"Alright you fools, I'm glad you're back 'cause I got somethin' I need to ask the both of you. I wasn't tryin' to make small talk with Arthur just for the fun of it."

They turned away from each other, both looking at her incredulously. Arthur huffed out a scoff, letting his hand fall away from Willa to rest on his hip. "Well, Mrs. Adler, I figured somethin' was up from how squirrely you was actin', but you ain't gotta voice your displeasure with my company quite so loudly."

His sarcastic retort only fell on a heavy silence. Willa crossed her arms, giving Sadie an appraising look. She had dark circles under her eyes, which wasn't much of anything new these days for any of them, but there was a malignant set to her features Willa wasn't much a fan of.

"I need you two to ride with me."

Willa narrowed her eyes. "To do what?"

Sadie cast her gaze between the both of them for a moment, squaring herself. "To finish off them O'Driscolls. I hear the last of 'em is holed up out at Hangin' Dog Ranch."

Arthur heaved out a sigh, hanging his head and shaking it. "Sadie..."

"I was a married woman. You _know_ what they did to me! And to my _husband_!? It sure as shit weren't pretty, and he sure as shit didn't deserve it!"

"We saw Colm swing! Ain't that enough!?" Arthur felt his blood rising despite himself; Hanging Dog was almost two states away, practically on the western border of West Elizabeth. It would take a whole day at least just to ride all the way out there.

"I'll go."

Arthur and Sadie both looked over at Willa, Arthur's jaw falling open in disbelief. "Willa..."

She looked up at him, mouth set in a determined frown. "If they'd killed _you_ , I'd want somebody ridin' with me." She cast her gaze back at Sadie. "I saw how you were in St. Denis. Just seein' that fucker swing wasn't enough, was it? You ain't even said two words to me when I've been in camp. You been plottin' this for a while, ain't you?"

Sadie's mouth thinned out into a hard line and she nodded brusquely. "I ain't done. I can't be. Not until I know the rest of 'em is in the ground, food for the goddamn scavengers. The two of you are the only ones I trust..."

Arthur splayed his hands at his sides, looking back and forth between them. If Wilhelmina was going, and he had the choice, there was no way he couldn't stick by her. "Goddamnit. Fine...fine. But we leave in the mornin'. We ain't ridin' across state lines in the middle of the night while we're all exhausted. And...there's somethin' I'm gonna ask of you in return."

Sadie turned to look up at him, brows furrowed in curiosity.

Arthur took a step closer to Sadie, looking down at her very seriously. "When the time comes...Jack, Abigail, and John...you promise me you'll help get them out."

Sadie cocked an eyebrow, glancing back at Willa briefly. "What you mean?"

"I mean, I talked to John today and I think I finally got the idea in his head that this thing's nearly over. He hemmed and hawed about loyalty, but look at where that's gotten us. If he needs that last push, and I ain't there to give it for whatever reason, I want you to promise me you'll help them get out."

Willa narrowed her eyes, but Sadie beat her to the punch when she asked, "where the hell else would you be?"

Arthur shrugged, casting his gaze back at Wilhelmina. "Hopefully we'll both be right there wit' you. Now that we got Sam in tow, things is a bit more complicated, but...look, all I'm sayin' is you never know what's gonna happen. So if I ain't right there to run when the runnin' needs to be done..." He looked back at Sadie then, nodding his head in Willa's direction. "You help her get them out."

Willa wanted to retort, but she bit her tongue. They could talk later, when they drew the canvas down on his tent and settled in to go to sleep. But his attitude worried her; it was probably him just trying to make sure all of his bases were covered, but she didn't like the clear implication he was hinting at that there might be some other business that could keep him from leaving with the rest of them.

Sadie looked at him for a long while, finally nodding as she crossed her arms. "Of course, Arthur. 'Course I'll help."

The three of them were up very early the next morning, before most of the camp was awake. They spoke with Pearson briefly as they stood around the cook fire quietly drinking coffee, checked their supplies and packed up tents and warm clothes for the ride through the edge of the Grizzlies.

They rode through some sun showers about midday, seeing almost a full rainbow stretched out across the vast plains of the Heartlands to the south. Sadie squawked at the sight of Bacchus Bridge split in half over the river, ribbing Arthur at his handiwork. Willa had found out about that the night before, and she shook her head as she took the sight in all over again. It was an impressive bit of destruction; and to what ends, still none of them truly knew.

They'd met a pack of wolves as they passed Cotorra Springs, vicious and uncharacteristically bold in broad daylight. Tulip came close to bucking Willa right off her back, but she managed to soothe the frightened Fox Trotter enough to put down two of the wild animals after Sadie and Arthur shot down the others that were circling them. Arthur cursed the damn things, grumbling to himself as he set about skinning one. At least these were normal size, and they could use the meat for their lunch before they continued on.

They built a small campfire close to the hot springs, marveling at the geysers that expelled plumes of hot water straight up into the air every so often. The meat from the wolf was tough and gamy, but it was a hot lunch and none of them complained. They buried the fire, salted and packed what was left of the meat, and continued westward.

They followed the Little Creek River from where it drained into the Dakota, finally spying the ranch off in the distance as the sun was arcing low in the sky directly behind it. Not ideal conditions for an ambush, so they circled wide around, keeping binoculars trained on the movement of the men they could see idling about the grounds.

"Looks like there's a bunch of 'em down there...and mostly drunk," Sadie muttered as she lowered her binoculars. They had come around to the western side of the ranch, so that the sun was behind them now. They dismounted from their horses, leaving them behind in the trees across the shallow part of the river to move in a bit closer.

Sadie removed some moonshine and a rag from her satchel, casting her eyes back toward the two of them as she got to work uncorking the bottle. "One of them, he's a fat fella with a beard...he's _mine."_

Willa narrowed her eyes, taking a step forward and watching as she stuffed one end of the rag into the top of the bottle. "Okay, so what's your plan, then?"

Sadie glanced up briefly from her work. "I set this off, surprise 'em, and we take it from there."

Arthur and Willa glanced at each other a little apprehensively, but before either one could say anything else, Sadie was striding forward towards the fence and striking a match off of her belt to light the end of the rag.

Arthur cursed and slung his rifle off his shoulder, seemingly ready to jump headlong into the fight that was about to ensue. He ran forward to take cover behind a tree as Sadie's arm arced up and over, and the bottle was flying, and suddenly men were shouting and scattering as a blanket of flames quickly engulfed the yard of the ranch, catching one or two unfortunate O'Driscolls in the process.

Willa grabbed her pistol, flicking the hammer and running forward to Sadie's other side where there was a large boulder jutting up out of the ground. She peered up over it, taking aim and clipping one man who'd just started to run for cover behind one of the ranch's outbuildings.

Shots were being fired from both sides now. The O'Driscolls were rallying, quickly overcoming their shock from Sadie's impetuous surprise attack. Arthur took out three in a short span, one right after another. Sadie let out a furious yell, stalking forward towards the gate and shooting anyone unfortunate enough to get in her line of sight.

A horse suddenly trumpeted from back by the barn, an unpleasant discordant sound that signified the animal was scared out of its wits. Their heads turned toward it momentarily, and Arthur trained his rifle upwards a split second after that when Sadie yelled to notify them there was a sniper who'd just appeared up in the barn's loft.

Willa picked off a few more men on the ground, but her attention was drawn past just as that horse came into view, blowing and snorting and being worked into a full gallop by its rider. The horse barreled right through the last dregs of the fire spread thin across the ground, making its way toward the open gate.

Willa squinted at the sight of the rider; he was dressed differently than the others, in a tailored burgundy suit jacket. His jet black hair caught her eyes and suddenly she was faltering in her recognition; it was Everett. He was here, doing something with Colm O'Driscoll's former gang, and now he was trying to escape the ambush.

She winced and ducked as a bullet bit into the boulder she was crouched behind, sending little chunks of stone flying where it embedded. "Fuck!" She glanced over at Arthur and Sadie; she saw that Arthur had seen, watched him as his eyes trailed her brother for a few seconds in surprise. Willa didn't have time to argue. She stood up and began running back to where they'd left the horses, sticking two fingers in her mouth to whistle for Tulip.

She heard Arthur yelling and cursing behind her, but she couldn't stop. She managed to glance back over her shoulder, yelled something like "I'm goin' after him!" She swung a foot into one of the stirrups, grabbing for the reins and snapping them before she'd even fully hauled herself up onto the saddle. "Gee up, _gee up!"_

Willa clung to Tulip as the horse broke into a trot and then a gallop; she managed to center herself, still clutching her pistol in one hand as she leaned forward in the saddle, trying to keep sight of her brother off in the distance. He was following the river southeast, and he hadn't slowed. She dug her heels into Tulip's sides a little harder than she meant to, but the only clear thought in her head was that she needed to catch him.

She hoped Arthur and Sadie had enough luck and skill between them to finish off the rest of the O'Driscolls; there were a lot of them. Even as she chased down her brother, urging Tulip on faster and faster, she was torn over abandoning Sadie in her mission to suddenly try to finish her own. She'd briefly thought about trying to reason with the other woman about all this vengeance business on their ride west, but she knew Rains Falls' advice would fall on deaf ears; and here she was, willfully deaf to it as well, it seemed.

She was gaining on Everett. He'd never put much pride into his horses, even back when they were still living on the homestead in Pennsylvania. They were a tool to him, nothing more, but it seemed he'd never bothered to even invest in one that was bred for stamina. That was good for her. She straightened up in the saddle, extending her arm and trying to aim the pistol.

He crossed over the river, splashing up water and spooking a string of ducks that had been idly roosting on the bank. They honked discordantly and took flight, and he just happened to glance back at the commotion and finally catch sight of her. She could just make out the look of utter shock on his face before he turned back around and redoubled his efforts, bucking his feet and urging his mount to go faster.

Willa cursed and tried to steady her arm, tried to counterbalance the shake in her grip from the horse's thundering beneath her and from her own quivering nerves. She took a big shaky breath, squinted one eye almost shut, and fired the pistol.

She watched as the horse skidded to a sudden stop, trumpeting yet again and rearing up in fear. She prayed to whatever was up there that she hadn't critically injured the animal, but as she gained on them, she could see the blood welling up on its tawny-colored flank. Everett flew off the saddle when the horse reared, landing hard on his back in the dirt. It seemed as if her bullet had only grazed the skin, because the horse bolted as soon as its front hooves were back on the ground, leaving him an unmoving lump in the dirt.

Willa pulled up on Tulip's reins hard after they'd crossed the river to come up on him, practically leaping off the saddle and stumble-running to her brother's crumpled form. Her breath came ragged as she stood over him for a second. His eyes were fluttering but he'd been dazed by the fall, still coming to his senses after everything had happened so quickly. She placed one foot on either side of him and went to take hold of her pistol by its barrel, forgetting that it would still be much too hot to the touch after she'd just fired it.

She hissed and quickly let it fell from her hand. She dropped down onto her knees above him, getting to work with her fists instead of the gun. Her thoughts swam in a rage as her fist connected with his face once then twice, hard. This was enough to startle him back to reality and he put his hands up, trying to grab at her.

" _You fucking bastard_!" She swatted his hands away easily and punched him again, square in the nose, leering at the sight of the blood starting to well out of his nostrils. Last time she'd seen him it looked like his nose had been broken once already (she didn't know she had John Marston to thank for that), and she wanted to break it again. She wanted to break him. Painfully.

"Mina!" Everett sputtered, putting his hands up yet again, turning his head to the side in a weak attempt at avoiding her fists. "Mina, stop!"

"Don't tell me to stop, you piece of shit!" She planted another fist into his temple, knocking that side of his face into the dirt. "You fucking brute! You fucking pathetic little boy!" She connected again, and her knuckles were singing with pain now, so she reached over to her side to grab up the pistol from the ground, by its grip this time. She flicked the hammer back and pressed the barrel right into his adam's apple, holding it there. "What the fuck are you doing out here!? Huh!?"

He sputtered again, blinking and wincing at the touch of hot metal against his throat, looking pathetic. "Needed new men. Heard about...about Colm O'Driscoll. Wanted to keep movin' west with 'em, I swear!"

"You _swear_..." She grit her teeth and punched him again as hard as she could, with her left hand this time.

He grunted, coughing out some blood from where his gums were split beneath his lip, but otherwise giving up trying to push her off. "I swear! Listen to me, Mina! I was done! I was...ready to keep movin'. Ain't had nothin' but bad luck out here!"

She sucked in some heavy breaths through her nose, keeping that gun trained against his neck, trying to keep her hand from trembling. "You expect me to believe that!? Then what the hell were you doin' with Dutch van der Linde!?"

Everett's eyes went wide and he shook his head, spreading his fingers and showing his palms in a placating gesture. "He...he asked for my help...wanted me to help out his gang. I owed him a favor, but I ain't s-stupid! I read the papers. They're in a whole mess of shit I can't be bothered with. I swear to you, Mina...ever since Cliff, I...I swear I been goddamn _lost_."

She narrowed her eyes, trying to look deep into him, trying to tell if he was lying. She knew they had been lovers. While Cliff had eyes for just about anybody, Everett had only ever had eyes for him. She had hoped it hurt him, Clifford's bad death. She had hoped for that like hell. She didn't know why she hadn't pulled the trigger. Her brain was a frenzy of conflicting emotions. She'd never been this close. One bullet, and it could all be over. Why wasn't she doing it?

"Wilhelmina, listen to me! Listen to me. I'm...I'm sorry, alright? I'm sorry! I got nothin' left. I'd...I'd offer you money, but it's with the horse...I just...I don't wanna die, okay?" His voice cracked. He was looking up at her, pleading; actually _pleading. "_ I-I know that's a goddamn laugh comin' from me, okay, I know that. Just this, uh...this whole situation is puttin' some things into p-perspective. You know? Ma, dad, Loretta, Cliff..."

Willa felt her lip trembling. The longer she let this go on, the more her willpower seemed to be draining from her. All she could hear was Rains Fall; _revenge is never truly gratifying. No one can be wholly good or evil. You can never change a person. We only become more who we really are._ She stuck her tongue out to wet her lips, feeling the grit of dirt there. Arthur had even told her very early on that revenge was a fool's game.

Was she clinging to a fruitless hope that he could change? Or was _she_ only becoming more of who she really was? A weak, scared little girl, too afraid to put the last remnants of her own family in the ground? Or was it strength, leaving him the option to live a better life, finally scaring some sense into him that he was not, in fact, invincible? That there were consequences for his actions?

She chewed her lip for a moment, finally straightening up and pulling the gun away from his throat, jamming it back into her holster. She swallowed thickly. Her brows drew down and she retracted her fist, punching him as hard as she could one last time for good measure. She reached down to his hip, grabbed his revolver. Then she stood up off him, leaving him to roll and grunt in the dirt, his pristine burgundy jacket now covered in mud and debris. She looked down and away.

"I want you to leave. Go west. This is over." Her gaze flicked back to him. "You're...you're still my brother. And even though you been just about the lousiest, piss-poor, shit-eating, _fucking_ monster of a brother...I guess that still don't change facts. It doesn't change blood. Maybe Lettie would want me to forgive you. She was always the kinder of us..." Willa turned her head and spat into the dirt, feeling the sting of tears behind her eyes. "Stop being an insufferable child and _grow up,_ Everett. This is your chance. Be a man and take it."

She turned then, hooking a foot into one of Tulip's stirrups and hauling herself up. She glanced back down at him one last time before turning the horse away to leave him forever. A big part of her hoped he might just die out here on his own, with no gun and no horse. But she couldn't do it, couldn't end him herself. After years of dwelling and chasing and fixating on him, when the time had come, she couldn't do it. She hoped to God this was the right choice. She couldn't keep perpetuating the cycle, couldn't keep bringing herself down to his level; down to Dutch's level.

And so she rode away, reaching back behind to stuff his gun into Tulip's saddlebag, urging her into a gallop to finally return to her lover and her friend.

When she got back to Hanging Dog, Arthur was alone. She rushed to meet him, hooking her arms tight around him and burying her face into his chest when his arms came up to envelop her protectively. "Goddamn, you scared me." He paused, sighing against the top of her head, just holding on to her for a moment. "What happened out there? You get 'im?"

She bit her lip. "Yes. But..." Her brows knit, and a hiccuping sob escaped her. "I couldn't do it. Jesus Christ, I let him _go,_ Arthur!"

His eyes widened in surprise. He didn't know what to say. He was surprised to find that, on one hand, he was proud of her. On the other hand, knowing it wasn't finished, he was quietly afraid. "Willa, what happened?"

She sniffled a few times, trying to gather herself up. She told him the essentials. He held her and soothed her through it. After another long bout of silence, she finally steeled herself and looked around at the carnage strewn about the ranch. "Where's Sadie?"

"Took off. She got that big fella she was after, up there in the house. Stabbed him I don't know how many times. Hope she got some kinda satisfaction out of it, for how goddamn wild it made 'er." He looked past her, off into the distance. "Even if she did though, I'm guessin' she realized it don't last very long..."

Willa pulled away from him after a little while, wrapping her arms around herself. "Should I have killed him, Arthur...?"

He looked down at her. It was like he could see a roiling storm behind her eyes, a tempest of conflicting emotions. She looked like how Sadie had looked just a short time past, spattered head to toe with blood and finally coming down from the rage and adrenaline. He sighed. It seemed vengeance was a tricky thing after all, no good end to the business either way except not to even start it up in the first place. He shrugged uncomfortably. "I don't know. You...think he'll stay away? From Dutch? From _you_...?"

She shrugged her own shoulders helplessly, shaking her head and looking away. She sounded almost breathless. "I don't know. I guess I...gotta believe he will. I tried to do what was right. I think. It doesn't exactly _feel_ right, but I don't know if shootin' him would have felt right either..."

Arthur sighed again, turning his head to whistle for Rei. He placed a hand at the small of her back, leaning in to plant a comforting kiss against the top of her head. He tried to imagine having to do that with someone like Dutch, and he understood the torment she felt. The circumstances would be wildly different, but at its core the concept was the same. Everett was her brother, the last and only family she had left in the world. If Dutch went completely unhinged and pulled some backward, treacherous bullshit on him, wouldn't he react the same way? Wouldn't he still try to give Dutch the benefit of the doubt? They were still family, after all.

They rode into the coming night in silence, trying to put some miles between them and everything that had transpired in West Elizabeth that day. They both quietly worried about Sadie being off by herself to cool down, but she was capable. Arthur had them push on until they reached Cotorra Springs again because he knew she'd liked it there, and it was close to midnight when they finally made their way down onto the flat plane dotted with geysers and shallow pools.

They built a small fire down by the southernmost edge of the springs, away from the road, setting up a tent in the meager light thrown off by the blaze. Willa wandered over to the closest of the shallow basins, crouching down to dip her hand in. It felt like bath water, throwing up a thin plume of steam against the cool night air. It stung her knuckles. She stood up and promptly started undressing right there at the edge of it, dropping her gun belt and her duster and the rest of her clothes in a pile on the ground.

Arthur watched her silently from where he'd crawled out of the tent after spreading out their bedrolls. She looked like something out of a Greek or Arthurian legend, all mystical and enchanting as she stepped down into the water, the steam misting up around her slender form, illuminated in dull light from the fire.

The pool was the perfect depth, and inside it had formed a perfect step on which she could sit. She leaned back against the rock, curling her legs up to her chest. She glanced back over her shoulder as she heard him approach from behind.

"How is it?" he asked quietly, settling his hands at his hips.

She angled her head all the way back to catch his eyes, seeing the stars out on full display behind him. "Perfect..."

That was enough for him. Arthur shed his own clothing, letting it all drop into a pile beside hers, setting his boots neatly beside it. He walked over beside where she sat, stepping down into the water. He slipped in deeper, crouching a bit but mostly letting the water hold him, moving so that he was in front of her. He settled his large hands on her knees, looked at her in the darkness.

Willa tilted her head slightly. He could still sense the maelstrom within her. He coaxed her knees apart, slipping up in between them, settling himself there. He had to remember to try and keep his stitches out of the water. The tips of his fingers brought her chin up so that he could brush his lips against hers softly.

She closed her eyes, sighing against him.

"I'm proud of you, you know..."

Her lids fluttered open and she looked at him, brows drawing down just slightly.

"Makin' a decision like that. I know what he did to you...how you was when I found you. I might've killed him myself, had I been there..." Arthur's voice hardened as he settled back a bit to look at her.

She swallowed. "I still don't know if I made the right choice. I got this bad feeling, I...I mean I've had a bad feeling for a while now, but..." She paused, leaning forward to curl her arms around the back of his neck, tracing her fingertips gently over his broad shoulders. "I sort of feel like...like it was the choice I needed to make to finally move on? For so long, I thought killin' him would clear my conscience, but I...I'm tired of killin', Arthur. I'm tired of blood. I want a life, a _real_ one. With you..."

He looked down as she let her arms fall from around him and took up his forearm, lifting it a bit so that she could absently inspect the stitches there, gently running her thumb over the bruised skin. "I'd take wolf attacks any day over you gettin' shot to hell by Pinkertons...all for Dutch's goddamn _plan..."_

Arthur swallowed thickly. He watched her fingers trail across his skin, noted the raw, bruised spots across her knuckles. A sudden shiver ran up through him, like a goose walked over his grave.

"Remember back in Rhodes, when we met that doctor, Renaud? We were comin' back with his wagon, and you told me there was no gettin' out of this life. Do you...do you still think that? You still think you're gonna die for this gang?" She looked back up at him, eyes searching.

Arthur knit his brows, jaw muscles working in the dim light thrown off by their fire. Sighing, he looked at her very seriously. He thought briefly about lying and saying no; but he knew better. He knew she understood that lonesome, fearful call he sometimes heard in the seconds before a deadly shootout or in the cold silence of those dark few hours just before dawn when he sometimes lay awake and restless and fraught with too many bad memories. She understood because she'd heard it too, that call that was a soft yearning for death; it offered a certain tempting freedom, a singular release from all the fear and guilt and pain and regret.

"Sometimes. But...not so much, now. You know, I got a letter from Mary, couple days ago. Goodbye letter, I guess." He scoffed softly; it was evident he still hadn't quite decided how to feel about it. "She said a lot of hard things in a soft and sort of pretty way I guess, but one of them things was exactly that. That there wasn't no escapin' this life. Found myself believin' it again, here and there. Hell, I felt that way even _before_ I got the damn letter. I'm guilty..." Arthur cast his gaze down between them, watching her hands trail down his forearm, her elbows sunk into the water while he held his dutifully above it.

"I am guilty and I know I deserve _everything_ they wanna give me. But...then I think of you. I think about...your hair..." He reached up then, gently threading his fingers through the wild black tendrils that framed one side of her face, tucking them behind her ear. "I think about your mouth...'n all those dirty words that come out of it, and how you somehow still make 'em sound so pretty." He paused again and couldn't help a little smirk, eyes twinkling at her in the low light. "I think about your eyes, 'n everything I see in 'em. All that strength, you don't even know you got."

Willa swallowed, gazing up at him, transfixed. He was doing that thing where his voice got real low and he mumbled like it was a secret admission meant only for her, though they were most likely alone for miles around. He suddenly moved out from between her legs, scooping his left arm down underneath her thighs and lifting her easily in the water. He pulled her up onto his lap as he took a seat on the rock where she had just been a moment before.

"Reckon...I saw your bounty right when I needed to. It's like you come along just in time to save me from somethin'. Somethin' that might've...I don't know, eaten me alive, maybe. You got this way of makin' me feel like there's somethin' in me that's actually _worth_ savin'."

Willa hooked her arms around his neck again and used his shoulders as a balance while she slung one knee across his legs, settling down in a more comfortable position astride his thighs rather than across them. She slid her hands up to cradle either side of his jaw. "You got goodness inside of you, Arthur. You may be guilty, but it ain't all black and white. I _see_ you. You don't take no joy in it. You got _morals._ You got good intentions; just no good way of goin' about 'em. It's just been buried by all the years of Dutch's bullshit. It's like..." She glanced past him for a moment, thinking on the words she needed. "It's like the further downhill he slides, you're tryin' to climb uphill to balance out the weight. But you can't sustain that. He is slidin' faster than you could ever climb. You see that...right?"

Arthur's mouth thinned out and he looked at her, brows furrowing. "I, um..." He looked away. She could just see a shine forming in his eyes. He blinked a few times, clearing his throat. His voice was a husky whisper, pained. "Yeah, I see it. 'Course I see it. I just...don't wanna give up on 'im. Him 'n Hosea...they was everything to me."

Willa blinked. She didn't know what to say. Had she ever truly considered how deeply all of this had affected him? "I...shit. I'm sorry..." She tentatively retracted her hands, looking down and away, into the water. She felt his hands gently catch her wrists and that brought her attention back.

"No. Don't be sorry." He cleared his throat again, seeming to gather himself up as quickly as he'd let the barrier fall a moment before. "Just 'cause I don't want to, it don't mean you ain't right. I been thinkin'...after whatever this 'last score' is that Dutch is plannin'...even if it don't turn out to be the last, which somethin' tells me it ain't, it is for _me_. I got to be done with all of it. I want a life wit' you, somewhere quiet, somewhere no one'd ever bother us. No more killin', no more of doin' someone else's bidding. I wanna...find a little house, or build us one, carry you in through the door proper, lay you down on a big soft bed...horses out in the fields, dog or two out on the porch..."

She couldn't help a watery little laugh, sniffling and nodding. "Yeah...?"

"Yeah..." Arthur brought her hands up to his chest, leaning forward to close the gap between them. That kiss seemed to contain multitudes; hopes and dreams and worries and uncertainties, but it was all okay. Somehow, it would all be okay. She shifted in his lap and felt him stirring against the inside of her thigh. He broke away from her briefly to press his lips to the tip of her nose, her forehead, the spot just below her ear, mumbling sweet nothings as he reached up and gently swept her hair back off her shoulders.

Her lips parted in a sigh as she pressed into him, angling her neck a bit when he buried his face there. "I want that more than I think I ever wanted anything..." She smoothed her palms over his chest, feeling him flex a bit beneath her. A smile curled up a corner of her mouth as she nuzzled her chin into his hair. "I love you, Arthur Morgan..."

He straightened up and looked at her for a few moments, hard. Suddenly a small chuckle left him as he shook his head softly, abashed and slightly incredulous. "God, you really mean it..."

Willa was about to reply with some soft criticism of his low self-esteem, but she didn't get the chance. She squealed instead when his hands slipped up under her arms and she was suddenly being lifted up out of the water very easily. "Arthur! Oh goddamn it's cold! What're you doin'!?" She wrapped her arms around his neck and her legs around his waist, even though she knew he would never drop her.

He smirked against her collarbone, climbing up out of the pool and carrying her towards the tent. "Gonna lay you down in the next best place I can think of..."

Her teeth chattered just a bit at the chill of the air on her wet skin and she clung to him as he somehow expertly crouched down and took a knee inside their little shelter, lowering her down onto the bedrolls. He chased her lips, palms smoothing down her sides as he pressed into her; he was like a furnace always, and he was happy to share his warmth. She only tried to pull him down closer, fingers threading up into his hair as she arched her hips up into his.

A low grunt escaped him as one palm slid down to her hip, squeezing in a needy sort of way. He moved lower, trailing his mouth downwards, dotting kisses between her breasts and down to her belly. She giggled a little and squirmed at the feel of his beard against her skin, making him smirk again. His hand idly trailed around from her hip to brush against the inside of her thigh, his fingers finding their way up between her legs.

She found herself arching her back again, sighing out a heavy breath, angling her head to look down and watch him at his work. She caught her lip in her teeth, humming in approval. He never failed to make her feel good, and giddy and wanted, almost always trying to put her pleasure before his own. That was one of the things she loved about him, though she couldn't quite explain how it seemed to make up for the years of mistreatment by strange men she'd spent her youth coming to expect as the norm. All she knew was that he was unlike any man she'd ever met, save for Hosea, and that struck her just fine.

This intimacy came easier to them now; she no longer seemed to disappear into her own thoughts as much, and he finally seemed to be coming to terms with the fact that someone wanted him just for who he was. He could let the barriers drop when it was just the two of them alone like this, and there was something intensely freeing in the knowledge that she saw it, accepted it and reciprocated it.

She gasped quietly at the ministrations of his hand. "It should be on a lake..."

Arthur faltered momentarily, tilting his head in curiosity. "What you talkin' about?"

"Our house. Right next to a beautiful lake. With loons. And those...those little frogs that peep in the springtime...oh..." She curled one of her legs up against his waist. Her eyes had slipped closed for a minute, but they widened immediately when two of his fingers slipped into her.

He exhaled a little approving purr, hovering over her, taking delight in the way she reacted to him even though he had no idea what the hell she was talking about. He chuckled low. "I heard all kinds of frogs in my day, darlin'. Ain't never heard none that peeped..."

She dragged her nails across his shoulders, clutching at him and pulling herself up into a sitting position. "They're everywhere back east. Like crickets, but they only start up in the evening, and they don't ever stop til morning. For months. It's like...hearin' rain on a roof, or...or..." She shook her head absently, losing her train of thought as his thumb brushed against her most sensitive spot, sending a wave of tingling pleasure rolling through her.

She caught her lip again and looked down at him. He was hard, potentially achingly so, and there she was getting all the attention. She pushed herself forward and turned, holding him by his shoulders and guiding him in clear indication that he should lie on his back. He raised his eyebrows but was endearingly obedient, crawling around her and settling himself on the ground, half-sitting, planting his palms on the ground at either side of himself.

Willa crawled up onto his lap, leaning forward to catch his lips in another kiss, sliding her hands down his chest toward the taut muscle of his abdomen. It still amazed her how pliant he was, considering the coiled strength that resided within him. He could pick her up and snap her right over his knee if he so chose, but instead he looked up at her in deference, as if she were a powerful queen and he a lowly knight simply waiting to be told which dragon needed slaying.

She straightened up, taking him in her hand, watched his lips part and his brows furrow as she sunk down onto him, smiling at the mumbled curse that escaped him the moment she fully settled back down. His hands found her hips and she began to move, teasingly slow at first until her own impatience got the better of her. His little groans and grunts and muttered praises didn't help much.

He guided her only a little, but was perfectly happy allowing her to set the pace of their lovemaking. Whatever she wanted suited him just fine, and he certainly couldn't complain about the view. Every once in a while his hands would wander, reaching around to palm at her backside or smoothing up and down her sides. She slowed every so often, leaning down to press needy kisses to his lips or against his collar or on the mottled flesh of the scar on his shoulder.

The way she slowed it right down started to drive him crazy though, and soon his hands were back on her hips and he couldn't help bucking up into her, driving himself deep and eliciting a moan. She caught on to his intentions quickly enough, picking the pace up, riding him like a damn bronco. Arthur let his head fall back against the bedroll for a minute, catching his lip between his teeth and accidentally biting into it almost hard enough to draw blood. "Christ, those peepin' frogs really got you goin'...!"

She erupted in breathy laughter that trailed into another moan as his thumb found her center again, trailing little circles in time with her movements. " _You_ got me goin', you fool!"

He grinned up at her, goofy and lovesick. It wasn't much longer before her breath stuttered in her chest and she felt all of her singing nerves hit that crescendo and she was coming undone around him. The sight of her like that was always enough to send him over the edge of his own pleasure, and this time was no different. He grasped her hips tightly, pulling her down hard before sitting himself up so that he could smooth his palms up her back and cling to her while he rode it out.

"Hmm..." Willa's breath stirred his hair. He'd buried his face back into that spot where her neck met her shoulder, breathing heavy in between little idle kisses. She traced her fingers through his hair to soothe him through it, noting how long it had gotten - it was below his ears now.

"When we get back...I'll tell 'im."

"Mm?" She tilted her head slightly, confused.

He was silent for a few moments before he finally straightened up and looked at her. She shivered and he could feel the little goosebumps breaking out on her skin now that their exertions were over. He reached over into the corner of the tent where he'd absently thrown their blankets earlier, unfolding one between both hands and bringing it up over her shoulders with a little swish to cover her. "Dutch. I'll tell 'im. After this last job, we're leavin'."


	31. Beaver Hollow - Sons of Disaster

Willa woke up alone in the tent the next morning. Gray, overcast light filtered in through the canvas as she blinked the sleep out of her eyes and rolled over, one arm flopping out and touching nothing but the cold bedroll. She furrowed her brows and sat herself up on her elbows, looking around. Her clothes were in a neatly folded pile in the corner, her gun belt, hat and boots arranged on top and beside, respectively. A little smirk curled up her mouth and she shook her head, snickering gently.

She saw a shadow fall across the front of the tent and suddenly Arthur's scruffy face was poking through the opening in the canvas. "There she is. Thought I heard you rustlin' around in here."

She angled her head, couldn't help smiling at him. "Didn't know you could fold laundry. Why ain't you helpin' the girls back at camp, huh?"

His eyes flicked down to the clothes on the ground and then back to her, and he gave her a smug look and a shrug. "Still far better at dirtyin' 'em than I am at keepin' 'em neat and clean. Susan and the girls've taught me a few things here and there, no doubt...but they won't let me nor most of the other men in a foot of their darnin' needles and wash bins, for all the goddamn racket they put up about it."

Willa laughed and extended her hands towards him, making little 'gimme' motions to indicate that she required his immediate presence. Arthur blinked and smiled and tilted his head down as a little blush crept up his neck and onto his cheeks. He ducked into the tent, pleasantly not put together in just his half-buttoned plaid shirt and ranch pants. He must have been ambling around out by the fire in his bare feet, and that made a little bubble of affection swell up in her chest for some silly reason.

She slid her hands up under his arms and pulled him down with her, tasting coffee and cigarettes on his lips. Arthur chuckled, letting her pull him, settling down beside her a few moments later with his head propped on one elbow. He tucked some of her hair behind her ear dutifully before letting his hand trail down, gliding over the swell of one breast to settle at her stomach.

Willa gazed at him fondly, tucking her hands beneath her head. "You got coffee on out there?"

"I do."

"Mm..." She let her eyes slide shut, listening to his breathing and the distant chorus of birds out in the trees, feeling his warm hand through the blanket that still covered her. "Well just so you know...you're welcome to help me with laundry any time. I'm shit at it."

He chuckled again as she side-eyed him, curling that hand around her waist to pull her closer. "If I ain't gonna be killin' and thievin' no more, guess I will have to find other things to occupy my time..." He leaned down to press his lips to the bare skin of her shoulder, just above her heart.

"I can think of a few things..." She untucked one of her hands to reach up and thread her fingers through his golden-brown hair. "Though sadly, I don't think they'll pay the bills."

He smirked, lifting his head to look at her. "I'd be just fine livin' like this, long as you was with me. No bills to pay then..."

The idea itself was rather romantic; the two of them traveling around together, making camp in any spot they chose for any length of time. Maybe bounty hunting, escorting caravans or cattle driving to earn money only for clothes and the food they couldn't forage for or shoot, and for bullets of course. But if Sam was with them, she couldn't put him into a life like Jack's. She saw how life constantly on the run affected the poor boy, and she didn't think she could let herself do that to another child, even if he was a good handful of years older.

"I wouldn't mind that much either, and that's probably what'll happen before we find a spot to settle...but if Sam stays, I think a real home would be good for him."

Arthur nodded, casting his gaze down. "I assume you, uh...didn't get Bronte's money off your brother before you left 'im?"

She sighed and shook her head. "No...he said somethin' about havin' money on his horse, but I spooked it off long before that. Wasn't much thinkin' about it while I was punchin' him silly..." She moved her hand, flexing it in and out of a fist, wincing at how it still pained her.

Arthur took her hand, gently bringing it up to examine it. He placed a soft kiss against the knuckles, and she was suddenly sure her heart might melt right down and pool into her stomach, a soft, squishy mess. She grabbed him then, curling that hand around the back of his neck, pulling him over on top of her.

"What about the coffee...?" Arthur muttered between needy kisses.

"It'll be there. You got breakfast on or somethin'...?"

"Not yet..."

She smirked. "Good."

A while later they both emerged into the crisp Ambarino air. Arthur finally put his socks and boots on while Wilhelmina went to tend to the horses. When she ambled back over, adorned in a dark jacket lined with sheep's wool that she'd had stashed in her saddlebags in case of colder weather, she saw him perched on a rock by the fire, doodling in his journal thoughtfully. There was a little pan on the ground full of fried eggs and the rest of the meat they'd saved from the day before and her belly grumbled insistently when she caught the scent.

He looked up at the sound of her footsteps, reached down by his feet to pick up his empty tin cup and offer it to her for coffee. She gladly accepted and he doled half of the food out onto a camp plate, figuring he'd just eat his right out of the pan to save them a dish.

When they were nearly done with breakfast, she spoke up around a bite of the salted meat. "I know we should get back, but I was wonderin'...would you ride up to Wapiti with me?

Arthur glanced up at her, curious. "What's been goin' on up there? Dutch was goin' on about Eagle Flies when I was back in camp, and you was...what, goin' on some kinda scavenger hunt with Rains Fall?"

She'd managed to tell him a bit about what she'd been up to when her and Charles had been out at the reservation, but they'd been exhausted and sleep had come quickly the night before they'd ridden west with Sadie. "I went to get a pipe those army bastards stole when they burned down this spot up on one of the mountains. Things that's sacred to them. Those little shits just went up there and torched all of it. Those people...they're in a bad way, Arthur. I just...wanna go and check up on 'em."

He held an appraising gaze on her for a few moments. "I uh...you know, I appreciate how much you care about this, but it...that ain't exactly our fight, Willa. We got our own to look after..."

"I know, Arthur. But Dutch has been awful... _encouraging_ with Eagle Flies. I'm scared he's just usin' that boy. And Rains Fall is worried sick about it, 'cause if they stir up anymore trouble with the army...there's a real good chance they'll all get massacred. And if not that, then left to die of sickness and starvation. A goddamn war of attrition..." She stood with her empty plate, reaching down to take the pan from him and carry the dishes over to the closest of the hot springs to wash them up.

Arthur sighed, reaching up to rub the back of his neck. "Alright. Let's go then."

They set out north shortly after, reaching the reservation in less than an hour. Captain Monroe, that one kindly army fellow, happened to be there when they arrived. They ended up chasing down an army wagon carrying vaccines that the tribe desperately needed for their sick, Wilhelmina pretending to be a lost traveler in a bit of easy trickery to stop the wagon so that Arthur could sneak up into the back and relieve them of their goods. Monroe was extremely thankful when they told him no one had been harmed and it would most likely be some time before they even noticed the medicine had gone missing.

It was a touch out of their way, but Arthur wanted to ride into Valentine to restock some of their supplies before going back to Beaver Hollow. They rode south again, planning that Arthur would stay just out of town while Wilhelmina rode in, in case the locals hadn't yet forgotten about that nasty shootout with Leviticus Cornwall's men at the beginning of the summer. They passed by Bacchus Station, following the fork in the road that would take them west through Cumberland Forest.

"Hey...you remember this place?"

Arthur looked around and then over at her, brows furrowing in thought. After a moment, it came to him. "Right here on this road. This is where we first met."

"It is." She lifted a hand and pointed towards where the track curved a bit just ahead. "I'm pretty sure right up there is where you hogtied me." She smirked.

He cleared his throat and chuckled a bit, letting go of the reins with one hand to rub the back of his neck underneath his hat. "Sorry we was so rough wit' you..."

"Charles wasn't nothin' but a gentleman. You, on the other hand..."

Arthur angled his head and shook it. "Ah, no. No, no. I seem to remember he was the one took your feet out from under you, sweetheart..."

"And _you_ was the one talkin' about takin' my Tulip and sellin' her!"

Arthur shrugged, chuckling. "How the hell was I supposed to know-"

"Arthur! My boy!"

Both of their hands moved toward the grips of their guns reflexively. They angled their heads up toward the top of a steep rock face off to their left, making out the silhouettes of many men.

Arthur blinked, flattening his hand up at the brim of his hat to shield his eyes from the sun that had broken through the clouds. "...Dutch!?"

Willa slowed Tulip to a stop beside him, chewing her lip apprehensively as she looked on. Was that...Eagle Flies and his men up there with him?

"Arthur, get up here!"

He cast a gaze back at Willa, shrugging his shoulders and nodding his head up toward the plateau. They rode parallel with the rock face for a ways before it dropped off and an easier incline took them up and around to the top of the hill. Dutch was indeed up there with some of the Wapiti men, most of an age with Eagle Flies; the most able-bodied of the tribe. He approached Arthur and Wilhelmina as they stopped their horses and dismounted. "Good of you both to join us! Did Susan let you know we was out here?"

Arthur shook his head. "No, we didn't...eh, we was out here more by accident, I guess. What you doin' wit' these fellas, Dutch...?"

Dutch walked back toward the edge of the cliff, waving a hand that indicated Arthur and Wilhelmina should follow. "Rebellion! The smell of cordite and integrity." He stopped at the edge, leaning forward and planting his hands on his hips just so as he craned his neck to look both ways down the road Arthur and Willa had just been on. "It is a beautiful thing...an eye for an eye..."

Arthur angled his head, squinting at Dutch suspiciously. "Whatever it is you're plannin', it ain't a good idea."

"We didn't start this thing, Arthur. They did." Dutch pointed a finger in the general direction of Fort Wallace, somewhere half a mile or so to the north.

Arthur spread his hands at his sides, hissing in a lowered voice. " _We!?_ This ain't our fight, Dutch!"

Wilhelmina walked past them when she saw Eagle Flies and his friend Paytah come up over the other side of the rise, beelining straight for the two young men and pointing a finger at the chief's son. "Whatever he's talked you into, you better be thinkin' _real_ goddamn hard about whether it's worth it! What the hell would your father say!?"

Dutch shot a scowl back over his shoulder. "Thank you so much for the vote of confidence, Miss Thorne!"

Eagle Flies stopped and crossed his arms, dark eyes flicking between her and the two bickering men behind her. "I _hope_ he would be proud of me. The plan is that nobody will be killed..."

Dutch turned around and headed toward a wagon loaded up with supplies, glancing back over his shoulder as he kept talking. "We're just gonna trap a few of 'em down in the valley. Disarm them, tar and feather them, and remind them to leave these boys alone..." He leaned up to peer over the edge of the wagon, reaching up in to grab a crate packed full with dynamite. "And I need your help." He settled the crate underneath one arm and glanced back at Arthur meaningfully.

Arthur shook his head, approaching Dutch, trailing after him as the other man began making his way down the slope toward the road.

"Arthur!?" Willa sneered and threw up her hands when he obviously didn't hear her, caught up in talking to Dutch and disappearing down over the hill.

Eagle Flies was up in the wagon unloading rifles, handing them out to his men.

She turned back around and glared up at the young man, planting her hands on her hips. "I thought you said nobody was gonna get hurt!?"

"This is only precaution. Like Dutch said, we only want to scare them."

"This is a bad idea!"

"You have no place to tell me what I can and cannot do! I am fighting to save my people!" Eagle Flies shoved a rifle into a man's hands, jumped down from the back of the wagon and stalked towards her. "We will do whatever it takes!"

"You are _jeopardizing_ your people and everything your father has tried to do! You need to go back home and help _him!_ Not Dutch!"

The young man shoved past her, shaking his head. "If you love my father and his delusions of peace among men so much, _you_ can go back there! But _I_ do not forget that you are a stranger here! You do not understand!"

She stalked after him, determined. "And _Dutch_ does? What about that goddamn fiasco with the horses!? You forget about that already?"

Hurried footsteps coming up behind her indicated Dutch and Arthur's return and she spun around, throwing her hands out to her sides in exasperation as Arthur gave her a guilty look. Eagle Flies waved a hand at them, taking an easy escape from her accusations and making his way to the edge of the cliff. "Hurry, we need to get into position!"

Willa cursed and sunk down onto a knee beside Arthur, giving him a pinch on the arm and whispering harshly. "What the hell were you two doin' down there?"

"Uh..." Arthur cleared his throat uncomfortably. "Wirin' dynamite," he mumbled apologetically.

She shot him an intense look but before she could say anything else Eagle Flies was speaking again, motioning to the others lined up along the edge of the cliff to cover their faces and get their weapons ready. "There's the signal. They're coming. Stay low and quiet..."

Arthur tapped her on the arm as he pulled his bandana up over his nose, indicating she should do the same. She grit her teeth, shook her head, hastily reached behind her neck to tie up the scarf she wore, yanking it up to cover her features. She scowled. She was rightly pissed at the turn their day had taken.

"Everyone just stay calm. We've got the upper hand here," Dutch chimed in rather cheerily. He leaned in a bit closer on Arthur's other side, lowering his voice, an oily tinge of concern threading through it. "Sure you don't want _me_ to man that plunger, Arthur?"

" _No,"_ Arthur replied bitterly, "I got it..."

"Oh, remove the weight of the world from your shoulders for a minute. Like I said, we're just givin' them a little tweak on the nose..."

"This is crazy. That is the _goddamn army!"_ Willa hissed, looking back and forth between Dutch, Arthur and Eagle Flies. "They ain't gonna let you get away with...with whatever the hell this is!"

Dutch shushed her, pointing down to their left. A moderately-sized army patrol had finally appeared from around a bend in the trees, some cavalry riders flanking foot soldiers. They were moving at a good pace, and soon Dutch was hovering at Arthur's ear. "They're passin' the first charge..."

Arthur reached out toward the plunger almost tentatively, hands hovering in front of it. He angled his head, brows furrowing. "Dutch, I ain't sure about this. I think she's right..."

"Goddamnit Arthur, we ain't got time for your doubts! Move over then." Dutch muscled in front of him, placing a heavy hand on the plunger and pressing it down. Willa swore she could feel the pressure in the air drop a split second before the dynamite erupted from where they'd fixed it on the trees, sending the trunks toppling and causing the patrol to be hemmed in on either side. The horses reared and trumpeted in fear, men fell across each other in surprise, and Dutch and Eagle Flies quickly took it upon themselves to begin admonishing the soldiers.

Dutch was brazen, as usual, and the whole sorry affair descended into violence quickly; to be fair, one of the soldiers did fire first, but looking back on it later Willa had to wonder what the hell else Dutch possibly could have thought was going to happen. Did he think they'd slink off like wounded animals with their tails between their legs? She wanted to run the second the first shot was fired, but she couldn't leave Arthur. And she knew Arthur couldn't leave Dutch. So they'd fought those poor army boys, killed all of them _and_ another patrol that came up on their rear soon after.

Dutch sent the men down to pick through the dead soldiers' pockets, leaving Arthur and Willa behind up on the cliff. She jammed her pistol back into its holster, stalking over towards the edge to yell, "we need to get out of here! The fort ain't that far off, they'll have heard all the goddamn noise we just made!"

"They might have information on them that'll help our friends with their cause! We search 'em, quickly, then move out!" Dutch stepped lithely over one of the bodies, bending down to rummage through the man's pockets.

Arthur made for the hill, fists clenching in clear irritation. "We need to move now!"

Eagle Flies stood up from one of the bodies, making his way to another unchecked corpse. "We need anything my father can use to strengthen our case!"

Arthur stumble-slid down the steeper part of the hillside, shooting the young man an apprehensive glare as he regained his footing on the road. "I ain't sure much is gonna strengthen your case after this..."

Willa stayed up on the hill, turning and cursing and kicking at the grass with the toe of her boot. She looked around, fidgeting. Every second they stayed was another second the whole of Fort Wallace could be bearing down on them through the forest.

She regretted thinking about it so hard a few moments later, because almost like she'd willed it into being, a cannon blast bit into the dirt track where the men were gathered, producing a gut-wrenching bang and sending dirt and chunks of rock ricocheting in every direction. Some of Eagle Flies' men were thrown to their backs, disoriented. A bugle could be heard off through the woods.

Willa ran back to the edge of the cliff, eyes moving frantically to find Arthur and see that he was okay. She saw him and Dutch and a few others booking it to make their way back up toward her and her next breath came a bit easier for it. In her distraction, she didn't hear the footsteps running up behind her. Suddenly that breath was being knocked from her lungs and she was on the ground, a very heavy weight on top of her. She heard gunfire coming from the same direction as her attacker, further up the hillside. They must have approached wide and thought they could trap the ambushers just as that first patrol had been trapped. She sucked in a desperate breath.

"I got one!" came the yell from above her.

"Like hell!" Willa brought her elbow back, hard. It connected with the man's shoulder, surprising him enough that he tumbled partway off her. She clawed at the ground, scrambling to get out from under him and managing to twist herself around.

Another cannon blast hit the ground off behind the soldier, close to where Dutch and Arthur had just crested the top of the hill. Arthur had his revolver aimed at the man who had tackled her, but the blast startled him and the shot went wide.

The soldier lunged for Willa again, using one hand to grab at her leg while the other went to the pistol at his hip. Before he got the chance to draw his weapon, she'd reared back with the leg he was grabbing for and kicked him as hard as she could, feeling the heel of her boot connect with the bridge of his nose. Her spurs dug into his lip, cutting it open and causing him to finally let go of her, hands going up to his face as he cried out and fell backwards.

She scrambled to her feet, retrieving her pistol and blowing half of his head away before she ran for Arthur; that Volcanic she'd inherited from her father was devastating at close range. Her stomach churned. She was pretty sure that poor kid had been younger than she was; they all seemed like they were only boys, doing what they were told, caught up in something bigger and more complicated than they were.

"Everyone keep your heads down! We're gonna get out of this!" Dutch ran further up the hill toward a small stand of trees, taking some of the Wapiti men with him to attack the third patrol that had snuck up behind them.

"You okay!?" Arthur reached out for Wilhelmina as she ran to him, grabbing her hand and tugging her toward a large boulder that would offer them some momentary protection.

"I'm just fine!" She yelled indignantly as a bullet whizzed by right where her head had been a moment before. They ducked behind the boulder and Arthur tucked his rifle up against the top of it, straightening up to take a few shots at their attackers.

She heard Eagle Flies yelling from somewhere off to their left. Another cannon blast dug into the earth a ways behind them, making her wince and bite down on the inside of her cheek. She cursed, regaining her wits and standing up to shoot a man who had one of the Wapiti warriors locked in a grapple. "They got a goddamn cannon up there, Arthur! We gotta slow 'em down!"

"I know!" He took another few shots before ducking down to reload his rifle. He craned his neck around the edge of the boulder before glancing back at her. "I'm gonna run for it, see if I can't take out the fella mannin' the damn thing!" He glanced back at her briefly, pointing. "Stay here!"

"Wait, Arthur!" Willa slammed a fist against the rock when he ducked out from behind it and started running for the top of the hill. She cursed again and turned back around, head swiveling to see if another patrol was approaching from the road.

"Paytah!?" Eagle Flies ran past where she was positioned, heading back down the hill to look for his missing friend. The gunfire was dying off now, and she hoped they had finally hit a reprieve from the onslaught.

Suddenly another bugle sounded in the distance, longer notes this time; they were signaling a charge.

"Eagle Flies!" She screamed for him, but he was too far gone to respond. "Shit!" Willa turned again and peered out over the top of the boulder, seeing Arthur and Dutch in what looked to be a heated debate up at the top of the hill. She looked back and forth quickly before making a mad dash to reach them.

"I'm just worried about folk!" Arthur splayed his hands at his sides, glancing over as Wilhelmina crested the hill. He immediately went to meet her, yanking his bandana down and giving her a quick once-over to make sure she wasn't hurt.

"I know, but Arthur, we've got to go!" Dutch said from behind him.

 _"Dutch van der Linde! We know you're up there! Surrender now, and we'll let the Indians live!"_

All three of them whipped their heads back in the direction of the road. That voice had come from a bullhorn, but it was dangerously close nevertheless. The fourth patrol was on its way. Dutch clenched a fist at his side, spitting a curse and whistling for The Count.

Arthur turned back and forth, eyes searching. "Where's Eagle Flies!?"

"He went back toward the road lookin' for Paytah! He's gonna run right into those men, Arthur!" Willa stuck two fingers in her mouth to whistle for Tulip and Arthur did the same for Llamrei.

He looked back and forth again, then grasped Wilhelmina by her shoulders. "Listen to me. You go get him. They're comin' after us; I'll make sure of it. You get him back to the reservation, and tell the rest of his men to scatter!"

"What!? What about you!?"

Arthur shook his head, glancing back to see Dutch mounting up. "We'll draw 'em off. Try and lose 'em. We'll meet you back at camp."

"Arthur! I ain't leavin' you!"

He shook her a bit to emphasize that he was serious. "Yes you are! Now we ain't got time to argue about this! I trust you, and you gotta trust me!" He leaned forward, threading a hand into the hair at the back of her head, pressed his forehead against hers briefly. "I'm comin' back to you. Don't you worry."

Willa pressed her lips together in a pained grimace, screwed her eyes shut for a moment, then reached up to grasp the back of his neck and press a firm kiss to his lips. She pulled away quickly, backing up, blinking hard a few times. "You better."

She turned and grabbed for Tulip's reins, hastily pulling herself up into the saddle. The mare was spurred into a gallop down the hill, headed for where she'd last seen the chief's son.

Arthur looked on after her for just a moment before he turned and made for his own mare. Dutch watched him carefully, tugging The Count's reins and bringing the nervous white Arabian over. " _We'll_ draw them off?"

Arthur barely spared Dutch a glance as gunfire erupted from the hillside below them. "Yeah. _We're_ drawin' 'em off. Now." He gave Dutch a hard look before bucking his feet and spurring Rei into action, heading back down the hill to put on a little show of himself, and hopefully Dutch, to draw the battalion away from Wilhelmina and the Wapiti men.

Dutch grit his teeth for a moment before mumbling to himself darkly and cracking The Count's reins, begrudgingly following Arthur down into the army's line of sight.

Willa rode hard, scanning the trees for Eagle Flies and Paytah. After a few minutes of frantic searching she found them; they'd both been on foot, and it looked like Paytah was wounded, so they hadn't made it far. Eagle Flies jammed more rounds into his rifle, backing his friend away from the trees and firing as foot soldiers began coming out of the woodwork of the forest.

"Eagle Flie-whoa!" Willa shrieked and held on for dear life as a bullet grazed Tulip's flank and sent the mare into a tizzy. She bucked, bouncing back and forth between her front and hind legs and trumpeting. Willa clung to the horse's neck, trying to whisper soothing things to her, not knowing if the horse had actually been hit or not. "E-Eagle Flies! You need to g-get one of the horses! _Sh! Shh, sweetie, it's okay!_ Get a horse and get him the hell out of here! _Shh, Tulip, c'mon girl, c'mon flower, it's okay!"_

Tulip sidestepped, flicking her head and snorting heavily through her large nostrils. She'd stopped bucking and bouncing, but her legs were still restless, and the gunshots going off around them weren't helping the situation. Eagle Flies glanced back at her after he took a few more shots, continuing to back his friend away towards the hill. He tilted his head up and let out a high, sharp whistle.

Paytah stumbled, and Willa urged Tulip over to them once the horse had calmed enough to be given direction again. She grabbed her pistol, taking aim at a few of the soldiers before hopping down from the saddle to help the wounded boy up onto the horse. He was clutching a bloody spot on his shoulder and limping badly, but he nodded to her gratefully before he hauled himself up with a grunt of pain. She hopped back on in front of him and took aim with the pistol again as one of the Wapiti Thoroughbreds thundered down the hill towards them, trying to give Eagle Flies time to get mounted up.

Most of the cavalry broke and rode off when they caught sight of Arthur and Dutch weaving in between the trees, leaving the foot soldiers still running towards them. As soon as Eagle Flies was on the horse Willa shouted to him, pointing back up the hill. "We need to get back up there! Let 'em chase us! I got an idea!"

He angled his head and gave her a hard, skeptical look. But when she bucked her feet and urged Tulip into a gallop back up the hill, he followed dutifully behind. They tried to zigzag the horses to avoid the soldier's bullets, coming up fast on the supply wagon that still sat a good ten yards from the edge of the cliff.

A handful of mounted soldiers followed them up the hill, but they were in for a surprise when Willa suddenly pulled up on the reins and caused Tulip to skid to a stop up past the wagon. She aimed down the sight of the pistol, fired, and watched as the wagon exploded, sending bits of deadly wooden shrapnel flying. A few of the soldiers were blown clean off their horses by the dynamite, and the rest were certainly no longer in any shape to keep up the pursuit.

"Gee up!" Willa bucked her heels and urged Tulip around and back into a gallop to catch up to Eagle Flies, who she'd told to keep riding when she stopped. The foot soldiers were soon lost far behind them as they headed northwest, hoping to cross the Dakota and then head up north through the cliffs just south of Cotorra Springs.

Willa glanced behind every now and again to make sure Paytah was still doing alright. He was sitting up straight, which was a good sign, unlike Kieran had when she'd found him out at Bolger Glade; it was hard to forget the weight of a whole man pressing into your back for fear of passing out and falling right down off the horse if he'd tried to hold himself up on his own.

Eagle Flies was silent for a long time beside her. He finally spoke up once they'd made it across the river and began moving up into the cliffs near Window Rock. "Thank you...for coming back for us. I don't know that I would have been able to hold them off on my own..."

She sighed, glancing over at the young man. "Of course. If they'd caught you, it wouldn't have been pretty."

"Where are Dutch and Mr. Morgan...?"

"...They tried to draw them off us so that we could get away. And that was _Arthur's_ idea, not Dutch's, mind. Eagle Flies, listen. I..." She quirked her mouth, unsure of where to start; she felt like she had a lot to say, and no good way to say it. "I know maybe it weren't my place to start chidin' you about the decisions you're makin'. You're right, I am an outsider, and maybe I don't understand all of it. But this...they ain't gonna forget about this. We killed a lot of men back there. This is gonna make things _real_ difficult for you."

"Things are _already_ difficult. My father has already signed treaty after treaty, and they have all been broken by those liars! We did _nothing_ to them!"

"I know! I ain't tryin' to argue with you!" She glanced down at Tulip's withers, trying to rein in her anger; she was worried about Arthur, and she was not holding her anxiety in check very well. "I just...I just don't see how you thought that goddamn production back there was gonna help, I guess. My daddy was in the army; he fought for the north, back in the war. I know a bit about what they're like. And I can tell you, they ain't gonna take kindly to bein' provoked like that."

"So what would _you_ suggest we do? Lie down and let them kill us all?" Eagle Flies shot her a hard look, still stubborn.

She shook her head, letting go of the reins with one hand to splay her fingers in frustration. "I already told you! You should have tried to trust your father! What you did today, they are gonna use that against Rains Fall; against all of you. That Colonel Favours might use it as justification to attack. And I've seen that place, kid. There's no way you and your friends could defend it. They'll wipe you out."

He looked straight ahead, mouth thinning out into a hard line. "We will think of something..."

She sighed again, reaching up to rub the back of her neck. "I wish you luck. But listen to me. Whatever it is, don't let Dutch be the one to think of it. He ain't...he's got his own interests in all of this. And he may talk a whole lot of altruistic horse shit, but he is _selfish_. Do not make the mistake of placin' his word higher than your father's. Please."

She got no real response one way or the other, and they finished the ride back to the reservation in near silence. Some of the other young men had already made it back by the time they arrived, and Rains Fall was both immensely relieved and immensely shocked to learn of his son's recklessness. He thanked Wilhelmina for bringing the two boys back, but his attention was diverted in trying to see that Paytah was taken care of.

She stuck around long enough to tend to the shallow flesh wound in Tulip's hip, cleaning up the blood and rubbing a salve onto it that one of the kinder older women of the tribe handed to her when she saw Wilhelmina at the work. She left soon after to head east for Beaver Hollow, muddled in her own thoughts about the increasing disaster they were drawing themselves into. The army _and_ the Pinkertons? How did Dutch think they were going to escape from all of this?

She chewed the inside of her lip raw in her worry; she didn't want to push Tulip hard to get back, but her anxiousness was getting the better of her. Having to force herself into keeping a steady pace left far too much time to think, and the more she thought the angrier she became. How could Arthur know that what Dutch was doing was madness, and _still_ practice such unthinking loyalty at the same time?

She knew he was smarter than that; he'd admitted to her that he knew how crazy all of this was. The hold Dutch had over him was like nothing she'd ever seen, and she didn't know how to break it, gently or otherwise. She'd taken what she thought was a gentle approach up until now, trying not to push him or force him into making a choice he wasn't ready to make, but the tipping point was coming. As she rode east into the coming night, she wondered if they would make it through whatever this last job was; and if Arthur would tell Dutch that this one was _truly_ the last.


	32. Beaver Hollow - The Descent

"Who the hell are those assholes?" Wilhelmina stopped in front of the girls' wagon, pointing a thumb back towards the mouth of the cave where two strange men were sitting at one of the camp tables with Micah, suspiciously close to Dutch's tent and looking like they'd made themselves exceptionally comfortable.

All four of the girls shot brief scowls in that direction before turning their eyes up towards Willa. She noticed they all looked very tired. She was tired too.

"Some of Micah's old pals from another gang, apparently," Karen replied sourly.

Tilly removed a shirt from the wash bin she was working at, wringing the water out roughly. "Real prize specimens, ain't they?"

It was Willa's turn to scowl. "What're they doin' here?"

Abigail shrugged, poking at the seam on a pair of pants with a needle a few times before she finally got it placed just where she wanted it. "Ask Micah. He showed up with 'em yesterday while you and Arthur and Sadie was gone. Did you notice Trelawny and the Reverend ain't here, either?"

Willa blinked, glancing around the camp. She'd only just ridden back in, and it appeared Arthur and Dutch hadn't made it back yet. She felt her guts trying to flip and pushed the feeling down with some effort. "Where'd they go? Jump ship?"

Mary-Beth nodded, glancing back up from her own darning work. "Reverend Swanson tried speakin' with us before he left. Tried to get us to go with him..."

Willa's eyes flicked down to Mary-Beth. "Why didn't you?"

"'Cause we all feel like rabbits in a damn snare, Willa," Abigail replied pointedly. "Too scared to stay and too scared to go! Dutch keeps harpin' about how they'll catch us if we split up, but they're gonna catch us anyway if we stay here...nobody knows what to do."

"I am tellin' you, you will be safer if you go." Willa glanced between the four of them. "You lay low, don't linger in cities, don't cause no trouble. The Pinkertons ain't after you, _you_ ain't the ones who killed Leviticus Cornwall or did whatever the hell they did in Blackwater, or shot up half of goddamn St. Denis!"

"None of us'll get anywhere with no money," Karen muttered, staring pointedly down at the cigarette between her fingers. "Dutch has all of it. And after the box got smashed all to hell, I ain't of a mind to believe he'll just hand back what we've all put into it."

Willa huffed out a sigh, reaching down into her satchel to retrieve her own smoking materials. "Money...what a grand goddamn invention..." She sat down heavily on the ground beside Karen, crossing her legs and getting to work rolling a cigarette.

"Cain! Cain!? Here, boy!"

She glanced over toward John and Abigail's tent, though Jack's voice was coming from somewhere off behind it.

Abigail let out a frustrated sigh, pausing her work to lean forward and rub a hand across her forehead wearily. "He has been yellin' for that goddamn dog all day..."

Tilly let out a somewhat bitter little chuckle as she stood up to pin that shirt onto a clothesline strung between the wagon and a tree. "Even the dog knows what's good for him, it seems..."

Willa furrowed her brows, twisting the cigarette paper into a tube between her fingers. "Him and that dog've been inseparable since you all left Clemens Point...you think he might've got caught by a bear or a cougar or somethin'?"

Abigail shook her head, at a loss. "I ain't got a clue. I think Kieran took Sam off to check the woods around camp a while ago. With all them trappers down at Butcher Creek, he said he was worried the dog might be caught in a trap somewhere."

"I sure hope not. How awful," Mary-Beth looked back over her shoulder toward the ravine for a minute, concern clear on her face.

Willa sealed up the cigarette and stuck it between her lips. She leaned forward as Karen struck a match and held it out for her, taking a few puffs to make sure it was lit. She nodded gratefully, exhaling a plume of smoke as Karen waved the match out and tossed it to the ground.

"So why ain't you and Arthur left yet?" Karen raised her eyes, giving Wilhelmina a pointed look. She'd gone on for so long to the others about cutting their losses and running, and yet here she was, more mired in the mess than ever.

Her eyes flicked up as she picked absently at the sole of one black roper boot, scuffed and dirty already from almost two weeks of hard use. "I was wanderin' on my own for a long time. I ain't scared to leave. I think Arthur is...but I think he's...more scared of leavin' Dutch than he is of gettin' caught. That's what I'm afraid of, I guess..." She quirked her mouth, taking another drag of her cigarette and glancing around briefly. She didn't need nosy folk like Bill overhearing this kind of a conversation. "We're...supposed to leave after this last job Dutch is plannin'."

Abigail perked up then, setting down the pants she'd been sewing. "Really?"

Willa nodded. "Yeah. Ain't sure if he mentioned anything to John about it. I just found out last night. He... _claims_ he's ready to go. But you know how he is, he wants to make sure all of you are taken care of." Her eyes moved between the four of them again.

Abigail shifted. She tied off the last stitch in the pants she was working on, taking a small pair of scissors and snipping the excess thread before she looked up again. "I might...know where Dutch has that money."

The other girls all paused and looked over at her. Tilly leaned her elbows on the wash bin, a soaking pair of bloomers clenched between her fists. "Are you..." She lowered her voice even further, glancing back and forth apprehensively. "Are you sayin' we should rob _Dutch?"_

Abigail shot her a scowl. " _No._ It ain't robbin' when it's _our_ money he's got stashed away. You think he'd just give it back to us if we asked for it?"

Tilly knit her brows, wringing out the bloomers over the basin. "I don't know, Abigail..."

"Well I do. He'd say no. And call all of us traitors for even thinkin' it. And you know what they do to traitors." Abigail jammed the needle she'd been using into a pincushion, twisting around to tuck the items back into a small sewing box that sat on the ground next to her.

Karen took one last drag from her cigarette and levered herself to her feet, reaching behind to dust off the back of her skirt. "You told John about that?"

Abigail looked up at her as she folded the pants in her lap. "I did. He was the only one I told, til now. I can trust you girls, right?"

Mary-Beth's pretty lips thinned into a worried line, but she nodded as she finished up with her own sewing, leaning over to put her tools away into the little box. "Just...don't do anything foolish, Abigail. Don't put little Jack in danger over a bunch of silly money..."

Abigail looked over as Mary-Beth picked up her journal from the ground and stood up. "We're all in plenty enough danger already. Don't you forget that, Mary-Beth. Don't none of you forget it..."

That seemed to put the final nail in the coffin of their conversation. Karen and Mary-Beth walked off together toward the chuck wagon to get some dinner, and Tilly followed soon after once she'd gotten that pair of bloomers pinned up on the clothesline.

Wilhelmina took one more drag from the stub of her cigarette before tossing it off into the grass in front of them. She leaned forward, rested her elbows on her knees. "I don't get it. I thought you all said his little tribute box got broken into and cleaned out?"

Abigail glanced over at her. "It did. But that was just general camp funds. Dutch has always kept part of it separate, usually stashed away somewhere outside our camps. Nobody ever knew where, 'cept for him and Hosea. But I think I found it, stashed way down deep in that cave. I just need the key to be sure."

Willa chewed her lip for a moment. "If you get that key...you don't let nobody else know about it, alright?"

"Of course." Abigail nodded and suddenly leaned in closer to Wilhelmina conspiratorially. "You know, I was thinkin'...about how I might get my hands on it. Sam was livin' on the street when you found him, right? Probably thievin', pickin' pockets and whatnot?"

Willa gave the younger woman a sharp look. "What're you suggestin', Abigail...?"

"Well, just that he's small and probably knows how to be quiet..."

"If Dutch caught him..." Willa shook her head, cutting a hand through the air. "If _Micah_ caught him? No. You leave him out of this."

They both looked up at the sound of hoof beats coming up the dirt track. Dutch had returned, but it appeared as if he was alone. Willa frowned, feeling her guts sinking once again. She gave Abigail a parting glance before levering herself to her feet.

"What the hell happened!? Where's Arthur?" Willa approached Dutch before he'd even gotten the chance to dismount, planting her hands on her hips as she stopped beside The Count.

Dutch gave her an appraising look before his eyes rolled toward the sky and he lifted a leg up and over to slide down off the horse. "Don't worry, Miss Thorne. _Arthur's just fine_. He took a little detour to check on one of Strauss' debts."

Dutch failed to mention that it had been at his insistence; he needed to collect up all the loose ends he could before making the final push to get away. And beside that, the sight of Arthur had begun to make him sick after they'd finally managed to escape the army, jumping off that cliff into the Dakota in a daredevil stunt he had by no means been sure would work. Arthur had told him some things on their cautious journey east after that; things he wasn't well pleased with. "He told me, you know."

Willa cocked an eyebrow, stepping to the side as Dutch shouldered past her to tether the horse. "Told you what?"

"That you're planning on disappearin' together after this train robbery. That he's done. He's...breakin' up the family. After all these years..." Dutch paused, letting a heavy hand rest on top of the hitching post, curling his fingers tightly over the rough wood. He stared hard at the ground for a moment before turning sharply to face her. "My own boy. _All_ them years...and this is the thanks I get..." His voice had gone real low and dark.

Willa blinked, glanced at the ground, stuck her tongue out to wet her lips. She tried to think of how to respond nicely. "Arthur loves you. He does, more than just about anything. But this..." She paused, tempting his wrath to lean in a bit closer, lowering her voice. "How do you think all this is gonna end? You've pissed off every goddamn sheriff, lawman, Pinkerton and hillbilly from here all the way back to California, most likely! And now the army!? They all know your faces and they are _all_ lookin' for you!"

"And they won't find us in Tahiti! Or Australia, or New Guinea! I have a plan, Miss Thorne! We just need the money to get on a _goddamn boat._ We just need...a _little more,_ and we are gone." Dutch took a hand off the post to clench it into a fist in between them, staring down at her. "If we split up, we are dead. They will hunt us down like wounded animals, one after another."

"No, Dutch! If you split up, they are gonna have a _harder_ time tryin' to spread their net thin across the whole goddamn country to catch all of you! If you weren't so goddamn stubborn about makin' such a big show of snubbin' every rich asshole you meet, and then _killin' 'em_ when they catch up to you, you wouldn't be in this mess in the _first place_!"

Dutch straightened up, glaring down at her with a mean glint in his eye. "Watch your goddamn mouth, miss. I am exemplifyin' somethin' that has been _lost_ in this country, with all of its vice and its greed and its delusions of cultivated grandeur! I am tryin' to spark life back into a flame that's sputtered out; a country wallowing in its own goddamn ignominy. This thing is bigger than me, or you and Arthur, or anyone in this little gang of ours!"

She took a step back from him, eyes narrowing. He was starting to spout the strange dogma he'd cobbled together from that writer, Evelyn something-or-other. It made him sound crazy. "I don't care about nothin' bigger than me and Arthur. Or bigger than the folks in this gang that can still make it out and live decent lives. This plan to get on a boat..." She shook her head, looking up at him with a real plea in her eyes. "It ain't gonna work, Dutch. You need to divvy up whatever money is left, and let these folks go! Let...let Arthur go. _Please_..."

He scowled down at her. It almost seemed like he was searching for something, his dark eyes boring straight into her with a kind of fearful intensity. "I...am tryin' my best. I am tryin' and all I get is _doubt_. You think I don't want to see these people safe? You think I don't want to see _Arthur_ safe? Or John? Or his boy? And you stand here, and you _dare_ to show me those goddamn crocodile tears!? I need..." Dutch clenched a fist again, bringing it up and then letting it fall almost as quickly, indecisive in his anger. "I need everyone in this camp to have some faith. I ain't forcin' anyone to stay, Miss Thorne. But them as do...well...they need to smarten up. They need to stop _spreadin' doubt._ Or else things'll keep goin' badly."

He pressed in close to her then, bearing down with an aura of powerful weight. "Do you understand, Miss Thorne? I will do _whatever_ it takes to survive. Do not think for a _second_ that I believe Arthur's attitude lately has changed all on its own. You been steerin' him against me for almost half a goddamn year now. Do not forget that I have offered you my _protection._ Do you want to know what'll happen if I rescind that offer?"

Willa blinked. She took another step back from him, letting her hand rest on her holster, squaring herself up. "I don't need your protection. And I ain't spread nothin' that wasn't already there. These people...they _have_ put their faith in you, Dutch. For whatever goddamn reason, I see them put more faith in you than I seen holy men put faith into their God. Arthur has put _all_ of his faith in you. And after Hosea...you got any idea how much it hurts him every time he sees that shitbird Micah cozyin' up to you like a goddamn devil in your ear?"

Dutch pointed a finger at her, closing the gap like a coiled viper striking. "You don't speak about Hosea! The only reason I tolerated your presence was because he had a history with you, and while I loved him dearly he is _gone_ now. The only reason I am _currently_ toleratin' your presence is because of Arthur, goddamn fool that I am. You are walkin' a _very_ thin line, Miss Thorne."

Willa scoffed. "S'that why you asked my brother to join in your little fun and games? Some kind of backhanded way of thinkin' you might get rid of me without havin' to get your own hands dirty? My god, Molly was right...you think you're some kinda lord and savior, or a holy emperor or some such nonsense..."

Dutch leaned back slightly, eyes going wider for only a moment. "I was hopin' I could collect on a favor from him. You really think I wouldn't _end you_ myself, Miss Thorne? Accordin' to you and Arthur and John, I've become quite the bloodthirsty bastard as of late. So you must know...that I am not afraid of gettin' my hands dirty..."

Wilhelmina swallowed. Dutch was so angry she thought she could see him trembling ever so slightly, in the way one of his hands clutched his belt and in the way the corner of his mouth twitched. She knew he was serious. There was a genuine threat being implied.

Dutch graced her with a mirthless smirk. "And besides myself, there's men in this camp that would do unspeakable things to a person, just at my word. Don't lose sight of the fact that I have become aware of a...a fox in our henhouse, miss. All this time you spend away from camp looks awful suspicious when I inquire and folks can't rightly say where it is you've run off to..."

She felt her jaw hinging open. "That...that why you let Micah bring in two men you got no idea who they even are? You don't got reason to trust me, sure enough...but I love Arthur, and he said he loves me...and _he_ trusts me...and I would _never_ betray the only other thing he loves...I would never..."

They both looked over as Micah himself ambled up towards them. Dutch took a step to pass her, but he paused and glanced over. "They're here because Micah trusts them, and we need more guns for this train. Which, by the by, you'll also be helpin' with. Arthur says you're stayin' til it's done, then you stay and _help_ til it's done. Otherwise, kindly get the hell out." Dutch brushed by and smiled at Micah, lifting a hand to pat the other man amiably on the shoulder.

Micah smirked, shooting her a positively shit-eating look of self-satisfaction before he unhooked his hands from his belt and leaned in close to Dutch, muttering something real low and waving a hand back toward the mouth of the cave like they had important matters to discuss.

Willa stood there, watched the two of them saunter off together, licked her lips again. She glanced around. Abigail had moved off from her spot at the girls' wagon. She walked around behind it, away from the main hub of the camp, chewing her lip and digging into her satchel for her tobacco. She needed to calm down. She was sure she'd come very close to pushing it too far with Dutch, but she just couldn't help herself. His over-inflated arrogance was enough to drive her mad. And after that unbelievable nonsense with the army earlier, she thought she'd actually kept her acrimony pretty well in check. She had to wonder what Hosea would think of all this; if he were still there, would he have been able to curb Dutch's increasingly erratic behavior?

She was at least thankful that Arthur had told Dutch he'd made the decision to leave with her. That made it feel more real; made her think back to all those pretty things he'd said to her in Cotorra Springs and made her want to actually, really _believe_ them. She knew he wanted very desperately to be a voice of reason to Dutch now that Hosea was gone, but he'd put on the unthinking, musclebound henchman act for so long that he seemed to have trouble asserting his autonomy with Dutch. It could certainly show up and cut like a thorn here and there, but he just didn't seem to have the confidence to sustain it.

"Willa."

She'd come to a stop about halfway down the slope of the ravine, where John stood out on guard duty. He smoked a cigarette, leaning a rifle over his shoulder with his other hand. She rolled up her own half-made cigarette, lifting it to her mouth to seal it and staring down into the forest. She could just see the sparkle of the Kamassa flowing lazily down below through the trees. She stuck the cigarette between her lips and struck a match to light it. John was about to ask if she'd heard him when she finally responded, glancing over at him furtively. "Can I...can I talk to you about somethin', John?"

He blinked, clearing his throat and letting smoke plume from his nose. "Well, uh...sure, I guess. What's on your mind?"

She smoked in silence for a time, digging the heel of her boot into the dirt and rocks beneath her feet. She had a flashback to kicking that soldier in the face, right before she'd blown half of it away and snuffed out whatever future he could have had, good or bad; no one would ever know now. She reached up, pinched the bridge of her nose. "It's, uh...well...has Arthur said anything to you...about leavin'?"

John glanced behind them briefly before turning his gaze back ahead toward the ravine. "Yeah, he might've mentioned it a few days ago." He took another puff from the cigarette, squinted as a gust of wind picked up, sending ashes spiraling in Wilhelmina's direction. "We had quite the chat while we was out there at Bacchus Bridge. Told me that...when the time comes, I gotta take Abigail and Jack..." He reached up to wipe his mouth with his palm, readjusting the rifle on his shoulder like he was uncomfortable. "Take 'em and run...and don't look back."

She looked at him out of the corner of her eye, reaching up to brush some erratic wisps of hair out of her face. "Dutch is, uh...I don't know. He's startin' to scare me, John...I'm worried now that if folk try to leave, he ain't gonna let 'em..."

John snorted. He tossed the butt of his cigarette off down the slope. "What's he gonna do? Shoot us?"

Her brows furrowed and she looked pointedly down at the ground. "I'm serious. Arthur told him we were gone after this thing with the train, and he just...he just made it _real_ clear to me how displeased he is with it." She swallowed a lump in her throat, chased it with a drag from her cigarette. "And I am scared that Arthur might not...I don't know, might not be able to go through with it, I guess? I mean, he...it's like, when Dutch ain't around, Arthur sees everything clear as day. But as soon as that man gets back into his line of sight, he ain't so sure of himself anymore..." She couldn't help but think of the way Arthur had trailed after Dutch back on that hillside in Cumberland Forest, looking altogether like the lost little boy he must have been many years ago.

"Well that ain't exactly nothin' new, Willa. Arthur, he's...well, he's the best man I know. And I don't say that lightly, ya know? But he's always been so goddamn eager to please Dutch, like he _still_ owes him even after all these years. And shit, I don't know, maybe I been guilty of that too, but...sometimes I feel like part of it's my fault. With how competitive he got to be...lookin' back, it seems like Dutch always encouraged it. I mean, hell I thought he'd be over the goddamn moon when I took off, but then I come back and he was more pissed off than ever. Still never figured out why..."

She chewed her lip. She wondered if he knew about Eliza and Isaac, but if he was that clueless about why Arthur had been so angry, she guessed she already knew the answer. Knowing what had happened to them, it was easy to draw the connection between Isaac and Jack, Arthur and John; of course he didn't want his brother making the same foolish mistakes he'd made when he was young, but he'd never been able to effectively communicate his disappointment. "He loves you, John. You may not be blood, but you're his little brother. He just wants you to take care of your family."

John huffed out a sigh. "I...I know."

They stood in silence for a time, until Wilhelmina finished her cigarette and tossed it down the slope. John watched the butt arc out over the hill before glancing back at her. He cleared his throat again, shifting on his feet. "Don't worry about him."

Willa blinked, hooked a thumb into her belt, shifted slightly to face him. "Huh?"

"Arthur. I ain't seen him like this since Mary, and that was a long time ago. Long, long time. She broke it off with him right after Dutch and Hosea saved me. I saw how hard it hit him. Mary never gave a shit about any of us, though; thought this life was too far beneath her. Wanted Arthur to change and wouldn't have him any other way. But you? You came around and you got to know all of us and you got to know him and you've never asked him to change who he was for you. And...and if you make him _want_ to be a better man all on his own...well that's more than Mary ever could've done. He's crazy about you, Willa. He'll follow you to the ends of the earth."

The corner of her mouth quirked. She blinked hard a few times, looking down toward her boots. "John-"

"What are you doing!?"

They both looked up and off to the right, up the hill toward where John and Arthur's tent and wagon were. Apparently, Arthur had ridden back in at some point during their conversation, because he was up there now with his hands on Strauss, shoving the bookish little man toward the center of the camp roughly.

"Somethin' I should've done a long time ago! Get your bag..." Arthur pushed Strauss out of their line of sight but they could still hear his voice, deep and angry.

"What the...?" Willa glanced over and met John's gaze for a moment, seeing as much confusion there as she felt herself. She turned to jog up the hill and meet them.

"I ain't gonna kill ya...though I probably should..." Arthur had dragged Strauss all the way over to his own wagon and was currently stuffing various books and trinkets and articles of clothing into a traveling bag. He stopped a minute later when it was overflowing slightly, straightening up and hovering over the bewildered Austrian. "You disgust me. And you shame us...if we could be shamed any more than we already are..." He yanked the ledger out of Strauss' hands, tossing it aside as he shoved the bag roughly into the smaller man's chest. "That should do."

"Arthur!" Willa stalked across the center of the camp, past Javier, Uncle and Bill, all stood around the campfire staring.

"Go!" He pushed Strauss' shoulder, hard, towards the trail that started where the horses grazed. His other hand went back in the direction he'd heard Wilhelmina's voice come from, palm out in a vague warning that she shouldn't be getting in the way.

"I don't understand you!" Strauss clutched at the traveling bag, almost tripping over his own feet in his haste to back up as Arthur stalked forward towards him.

Arthur grabbed him by the arm, turning him around and walking him forcefully. "Go and get a job!" He shoved Strauss so hard the older man almost fell again.

"Arthur! Goddamnit, get ahold of yourself!" Willa stalked up behind him and grabbed his arm in an attempt to pull him back.

Arthur turned on her, clenching his fists at his sides and shrugging her off. He shook his head, glared back at Strauss. "No! No. Him and me, we ain't decent. But those folk I was sent to rob from, they was..."

"A-Arthur! I am your friend! I'm-"

"You're leavin'. That's what you're doin'..." Arthur grabbed at his satchel, digging around inside and pulling out a wad of money. He waved it in front of Strauss and then threw it to the ground in front of him. "Go on!"

"Arthur!"

"Wilhelmina, would you kindly get lost for a goddamn minute! This don't concern you!" Arthur angled his head to give her a fierce glare out of the corner of his eye, too worked up in all of his anger to realize the scene he was making. It had been building in him since their run-in with the army, and was well-nigh boiling over now.

Her jaw dropped. Her eyes swiveled from him to Strauss and then back again. "Arthur-"

"Please!"

Strauss was about to speak again, probably to plead with her to reason with him, but before the old man got the chance Arthur was stalking toward him again like a bull getting ready to charge.

Strauss emitted a very small sound and stooped to gather up the cash as quickly as he could in one free hand before he turned and walked away hurriedly toward the trailhead.

Willa glanced back toward the fire and caught Javier and Bill looking at each other almost knowingly. It made anxiety sink its claws into her guts in redoubled efforts and she had to force herself to walk away before she blew up. She stalked off past them toward the scout fire, crossing her arms and grunting when she felt a hand on her arm. "Oh no you-"

"Willa!" Sadie hissed at her, grabbing her by her shoulder and leading her down the hill past the fire.

"Sadie, get off!"

"Oh, no. Not til I know you ain't gonna do nothin' stupid."

Willa turned on Sadie, jabbing one of her hands out into the air in frustration. "Oh, I don't think you gotta worry about that! Arthur's doin' enough stupid for the both of us! What the hell is he thinking!?"

Sadie heaved out a sigh. "He's probably thinkin' he's done doin' that fella's dirty work! You know the kinda poor folk that little bastard lends his money to!"

Willa opened her mouth to retort and then closed it again, huffing in frustration as she dug into her satchel for her rolling materials. She knew Sadie had a very good point; Strauss lent money to folks who were absolutely desperate at outrageous terms that it was often nearly impossible for them to pay back. She'd even heard Dutch denounce his practice, but he'd still never made the man stop. And yet, he was one of the gang. He'd always been friendly enough, if a bit odd and frog-like, and she didn't necessarily think he deserved to be so suddenly tossed out onto his ass.

Sadie looked her in the eye and pointed a finger up at her. "Don't you forget about what you done to Molly O'Shea."

 _"That was different!"_

"Was it!?

Willa let out a frustrated little half-screech, turning and kicking one of the logs that folk often sat on when they were out at the scout fire. It toppled over and rolled down the hill a little ways before it got caught on a snag and stilled. She was all worked up, breathing heavy and feeling like a teakettle about to blow. Everything that had happened that day since they'd left the reservation and met up with Dutch and Eagle Flies had been utter fury-inducing nonsense. Her hands trembled as she tried to roll herself a cigarette.

Sadie sighed again, taking a step closer to her. "Forget about Strauss for a second, alright? Just calm down. You just got so worked up so fast, you ain't even givin' yourself time to have a thought."

"It ain't just Strauss! It's...it's..." She grunted again, pinching the paper between the fingers of one hand so she could wave vaguely at their surroundings with the other. "Dutch and Micah and the goddamn _army_ and now _Arthur's_ throwin' folks out!? I _know_ Javier and Bill was just standin' over there watchin' like goddamn vultures, waitin' to swoop in on him for blowin' up that like! And the Pinkertons are still out there patrolling, and...and Dutch thinks I'm a goddamn rat!"

Sadie shook her head, brows furrowing. "What the hell-"

"Miss Mina! Mrs. Adler! Have you seen Cain?" Jack came out of the trees near the bottom of the slope and he beelined up towards them, Kieran and Sam following dutifully behind; it seemed he'd wandered down to the outskirts of camp during that little scene and found the other two coming back from their own search.

Willa tried to gather herself up, giving him a weak smile of sympathy as he came up to them. "No Jack, I'm awful sorry but I haven't seen him. Maybe he just wandered off and got himself a little lost?" She glanced up and met Kieran's good eye, and he simply gave her an uncertain shrug in return.

"Sorry, hon. I'm sure that little terror'll be back soon enough." Sadie leaned down to give the boy a pat on his shoulder.

"I'm really worried...he's never been gone this long." Jack heaved out a sigh and wandered up past them into camp. Sam gave Wilhelmina a lackluster little wave of greeting before loping off after him, leaving Kieran alone with the two women.

Willa nodded to him and the three of them fell into step together to trail slowly behind the two boys. "No luck, huh?"

Kieran shook his head, reached up to scratch his forehead underneath his hat. "No. Didn't wanna scare 'em too much, but if you ask me, I'm thinkin' he must have got took by a bear."

Sadie winced. "Not a good way for anybody to go, don't matter if you're a dog or not..."

"Cain, where are you!?" Jack's voice echoed out from around the mouth of the cave. They saw him gasp and take a step backwards as Micah appeared out of the inky darkness inside, looking irritated.

He stooped in front of Jack, laid a heavy hand on the boy's shoulder, spoke to him with exaggerated patience. "Hey. The dog is gone. Can you be quiet now, huh? The big men are tryin' to do some work."

Jack blinked and looked at Micah, his brows knitting. "He'll...he'll come back. If I keep calling, he'll hear me..."

Sam stood just behind Jack, eyed Micah warily but didn't say anything.

Micah held him firmly, looked him dead in the eye. "The dog _ain't...comin'...back._ " He stood up, squinted at Jack for a moment, got irritated again when the boy didn't immediately give up and scamper off. " _Now get lost_!" Micah feinted at him, puffing his chest out and twitching like he was about to strike. Jack let out a shrill little scream and took off, running off toward his parents' tent.

"Oh, you gotta be kiddin' me!" Sadie clenched her fists at her sides as they watched Micah terrorize the poor kid, starting over to give him a piece of her mind with Wilhelmina hot on her heels, silent and full of renewed violence.

Sam took a few steps backwards, staring up at Micah in dawning realization as the man began to chuckle to himself in a low and hearty and positively spine-tingling way. The laughter trailed off after a few moments and he sucked in a big breath, casting his gaze at Sam now.

Before Micah got the chance to make a snide remark Sam was on him. "You bastard! You-!" He cut himself off as he threw a fist at Micah, taking the man off-guard and barreling into him with all the force his small body could muster.

Micah barely had to take a step back, his hackles rising as he swatted Sam's fist away, reaching out to snatch it and hold it up in the air with one hand while the other went down lightning fast to grab the knife he kept at his belt.

"Don't you _fucking dare!"_ Willa came up behind him and jammed her arm around his throat, yanking him down and taking him by surprise. He let go of the boy's hand when she squeezed as hard as she could, using her other hand to lever her arm and lock it in place with the joint of her elbow pressed tight into his windpipe.

Arthur was off at the other side of the camp near the cook fire with John and Charles; the other two had taken it upon themselves to pull Arthur away and try to calm him the hell down, just as Sadie had done with Wilhelmina. All three of them had looked over when Micah raised his voice at the boys. Arthur's eyes went wide when he saw Micah reaching for his knife, and then he was running. Wilhelmina put Micah in a choke-hold and successfully made him let go of Sam, but he was still clutching the blade and Arthur knew if he didn't get there in time that Micah was going to twist himself around and stab her with it.

Sadie whipped her gun out of its holster, leveling it at Micah. "I'll shoot you, you bastard!"

"You son of a bitch! I should _kill you_!" Willa hissed into his ear, trying with all her might to tighten the hold she had even more. All that anger that had been building up all day was frothing over now, blinding her to the imminent threat of the knife still clutched in his hand. He managed to wheeze out an indecipherable noise that descended into what sounded like broken laughter as he reached up with his other hand to grab at her forearm, digging what fingernails he had into the sleeve of her coat.

Arthur watched him bring the knife up, getting ready to swing it up over his shoulder and embed it into hers. "Wilhelmina, let go!"

It took her a few seconds to register, but then she was faltering and loosening her grip on him, trying to pull away even though he was still clutching her forearm tightly. Micah took the opportunity to spin around and swipe at her with the knife. She yanked as hard as she could when he spun, getting her arm back faster than anticipated and stumbling backwards. She went down on her ass, and that was the only thing that saved her; the edge of the knife only touched right between her breasts, cutting through her shirt and biting a thin line down her sternum before her own uncoordinated momentum carried her out of his reach.

Arthur was on him in a second, grabbing Micah by his shoulders and tossing him to the ground, away from her. "Come here you goddamn cocksucker!" He dropped down heavily on top of Micah, pinned down his arm and pried the knife from his hand, tossing it off into the dirt.

"Ah fuck you, Morgan!" Micah spit up at him, squirming, going to reach for one of his guns with the other hand.

Before he could though, one of Sadie's boots came down on his arm and he grunted in pain, hissing curses up at the both of them.

" _What the hell is goin' on out here_!?" Dutch stood in the mouth of the cave, a lantern hanging from one hand as he gaped at the barbaric scene his camp had devolved into. Joe and Cleet, Micah's two friends, appeared out of the shadows behind him and started to make for Arthur and Sadie but Dutch cut a hand through the air and stopped them, waiting for an answer.

Micah twisted again, angling his head to look over at their leader. "Dutch, you see what they're doin' to me!?"

Willa quickly got to her feet, wincing and pressing a hand to her chest at the burn there. She ran to Sam, ran her free hand through his hair, down over his shoulder, checked him to make sure he hadn't gotten hurt.

Arthur grit his teeth and locked one large hand around Micah's throat, squeezing to shut him up. "Your man here's threatenin' the _kids_ , Dutch-!"

"ENOUGH!" Dutch shoved the lantern at Joe's chest, forcing the other man to take it before he stalked forward, waving a hand impatiently at Arthur and Sadie. "Enough of this bullshit, all of you! Get up, get off him! Stop acting like goddamn children! We ain't got time for this!"

Arthur's brows knit, but he didn't move, not just yet. Micah wheezed beneath him, still wriggling. "Dutch? What is goin' on? What is happenin' to us? What's happenin' to _you?"_

Micah sucked in a breath down beneath him, hissing. "You show him s-some respect-!"

Sadie grimaced, angled her foot a little bit, pressed down harder on Micah's arm and made him grunt again.

Dutch clenched his fists, took another step forward. "Did you hear me? I said-"

"Mr. van der Linde! Mr. Morgan!"

Everyone looked over toward the front of the camp at the thunder of many horses riding up the track.


	33. Beaver Hollow - The Fracture

"Mr. van der Linde! Mr. Morgan! Charles!"

Everyone looked over toward the front of the camp at the thunder of many horses riding up the track. Eagle Flies was leading in a large battalion of Wapiti warriors, and it was clear even from a distance they were dressed for battle. They pulled up on the reins of their horses, coming to a stop en masse in the open clearing just between the girls' wagon and the cook fire.

Arthur's jaw dropped at the sight. He finally loosened his hand from Micah's throat, standing up slowly to gawk at their unexpected visitors.

Micah sprang to his feet, taking a few steps backwards to stand beside Dutch, Joe and Cleet at his back.

Wilhelmina tilted her head to the sky, closed her eyes for a moment. "God, you've _gotta_ be kiddin' me..."

Eagle Flies rode a bit closer to the center of the camp, his Thoroughbred nickering and stamping its hooves in irritation. "They try to kill my people for oil! For _oil!_ Tonight we ride once more! Ride with me, ride with us! Ride with us against the factory!"

She took a few steps forward, still holding her palm against her sternum where Micah's knife had cut her. "What are you doin', kid? I _just_ left you a few hours ago!"

"That is why we ride now! After our skirmish with the army, no one will be expecting an attack so soon!"

Wilhelmina rolled her eyes skyward, shaking her head. "You fool...you _goddamn_ fool," she muttered.

Dutch walked forward, brushing between Arthur and Sadie, rubbed his hands together almost gleefully before spreading them wide at his sides in a welcoming gesture. "And I for one admire your courage, son! It is a thing of great beauty-"

"Stop!" Rains Fall suddenly rode up into the camp from the western side, holding a hand out in front of himself in a pleading gesture. He must have followed his son all the way east to Beaver Hollow.

"Everyone stop!" He dismounted, made his way around his horse to stand in front of Eagle Flies. "My son...my last son. Don't! When I was your age, I fought. I saw death. I have killed. The men I knew were slain. My first born - your brother - had his head smashed by a drunken soldier! My wife had her throat slit. We made peace. I knew not to trust...yet I had no choice..."

Dutch crossed his arms, regarding the Wapiti chief silently.

Rains Fall paced, emotion wracking his voice. He chanced small glances up at his son, but it was clear his desperation may get the better of him if he let his eyes linger too long. "Maybe you are right. Maybe the slow death is worse than a fast one. Maybe none of these men are good. Maybe a world in which they came to us is a world that we cannot endure! But endure we must."

Eagle Flies tightened his fists around the horse's reins, shifting in the saddle. "Father, you are tired..."

"Do not die for pride, my son! We have suffered too much in this trick! The earth, the water...they have no pride! They endure! And _we_ must endure! My only boy...my precious boy. Do not mistake my strength for weakness! As your chief, I implore you!"

Eagle Flies was silent for a few moments. He regarded his father before lifting his chin up indignantly. "Your words mean nothing to me, father."

"Don't-!"

"Ride with me! Now!" Eagle Flies bucked his feet, turning his horse away from his father, leading his men off down the path without so much as a second glance.

Rains Fall swiveled his head as the rest of the men maneuvered around him to follow his son. "Stop! Please!"

None of them stopped. A few war woops echoed back up the hill after they'd all taken off. Rains Fall turned, approached the group gathered out in front of the cave. "Miss Thorne! Mr. Morgan! Please! After you helped me, after we spoke..."

Dutch cocked an eyebrow, eyes flicking back and forth between the Wapiti chief and Wilhelmina and Arthur.

"This is just a trap...my son, my people, will all die..." Rains Fall wrung his hands together.

Dutch turned toward Arthur, showing Willa his back. "You helped this fella, Arthur?"

He sounded taken aback. And he always seemed to do this; he would address Arthur, ignoring her in favor of placing blame or accusation on the man he knew he had control over. He knew, in the end, he could manipulate Arthur with a rebuke; make Arthur fall back into line with the promise of falling back into his favor.

Wilhelmina shoved past Micah roughly. He feinted at her, still riled up from the fight and she put her hand on the butt of her gun, baring her teeth and practically hissing at him like a feral cat before continuing on past. She went to stand beside Arthur, raised her chin up toward Dutch as Eagle Flies had done just a few minutes before.

Arthur's brows knit. "What of it?"

Micah took a step closer to Dutch, eyeing the both of them closely and angling his head. "What else you two lovebirds been doin' behind Dutch's back?"

She twitched and grimaced, looking like she was going to jump Micah again. "You-!"

Arthur put an arm in front of her, pushing her back ever so slightly, eyes narrowing at Micah. " _What...?"_

Rains Fall stepped forward once more, attempting to quell the bickering in favor of things more important. "The wars are over...we have lost. These young men will be annihilated! Please!" His eyes moved to Dutch briefly; they had never met before now, and with everything the Wapiti chief had heard about the man, he trusted Arthur, Wilhelmina and Charles far more than he would ever trust their leader. But he was desperate, and his plea was for all of them to help in some way, in any way.

Dutch's eyes remained glued on Arthur, waiting to see how he would respond.

After a few moments of silence, Wilhelmina cast her gaze at Arthur as well. She wanted very badly to jump in and offer her help, but if no one else stepped forward, if _Arthur_ didn't step forward, she wasn't sure anyone else would either.

Arthur locked eyes with her, saw the silent plea there. She still held a palm to her chest, covering the slit in the center of her shirt from Micah's goddamn knife. His jaw worked for a moment and finally his eyes flicked back to Dutch before centering on Rains Fall again. "We'll see what we can do..." He looked back. "Charles? Who else will come with us?!"

Wilhelmina let out a heavy breath, relieved. She didn't know what the hell they were in for, but his acknowledgement was as good a place to start as any. She stopped beside Rains Fall, placing her free hand gently against his shoulder. "We'll do what we can..."

He placed his own palm over her hand briefly. "Thank you..."

"Oh, I'll ride, Arthur! Who knows what other secrets I'll learn about..." Dutch followed Arthur and Charles off toward the horses. Micah and his cronies stayed pointedly right where they were. "Who else!?"

John, Sadie, Sean, Javier, and finally Bill all acknowledged and followed after the other three, making their way to the horses to mount up.

Willa made her way over to Sam before joining the others, putting a hand on his shoulder and walking him a bit away. She lowered her voice, leaning down to check in with him. "Are you okay?"

His lip quivered, but he sucked in a big breath and puffed his chest out a bit, gave her a resolute nod. "But he...Cain, I think he..." He couldn't even get the words all the way out.

Her eyes narrowed and she nodded, squeezing his shoulder gently. "I know...but you listen to me, okay? I want you stay with Jack and Miss Abigail and the girls. Don't go near Micah, you hear me? You stay right away from him." She glanced around, removing her hand from his shoulder to grab the butt of her pistol. She slid it from its holster at her hip and pressed it into his hands, looking at him very seriously. "You hold onto this. You use it if you have to." She glanced back, seeing several of the gang already mounted up. "I gotta go. We are gonna get out of this soon, Sammy. I promise."

Arthur put a gentle but insistent hand on Wilhelmina's arm as she approached the horses, pulling her aside before she could climb up onto Tulip's saddle. "You alright...? How's your-?"

"I'm fine. Come on, we need to go." Wilhelmina shrugged him off, quickly buttoning up her coat before hooking her foot into a stirrup.

They thundered off down the dirt trail in pairs, Dutch, as ever, taking the lead.

"What else have you been doin' behind my back, Arthur!?" Dutch called out from the front of the line.

Willa grit her teeth; she might have still been pissed at Arthur, but she was so goddamn tired of Dutch's fixation on him, it was hard for her to keep her mouth shut. She spoke up before Arthur got the chance. "We been _tryin'_ to stop this goddamn mess from gettin' any worse!"

"Why the hell would they attack the oil fields!?" John chimed in from the center of the line.

"What do you mean? It's perfect!" Dutch glanced back.

Arthur's brow furrowed, the anger clear in his voice at Dutch's implication. "This was _your_ idea!?"

"Partly! The army, the government, the industrialists...they've taken _everything_ from these people! Wouldn't you want to fight back?"

Wilhelmina scoffed, her fists tightening on the reins as the trees flew by on either side of them. "Your _selfless empathy_ is gonna get every single one of them killed!"

"She's right," Arthur called up from beside her. "You've handed them a death sentence!"

"Just like John if we hadn't got him outta that prison!" Sadie yelled up from just in front of them.

"Hey! Show some goddamn respect!" Bill hollered from his place opposite Javier.

"You'll know when I ain't showin' respect, Bill!" Sadie spat back.

"I had a plan! I _still_ have a plan!" Dutch yelled emphatically.

"What _plan!?_ What _goddamn plan,_ Dutch!?" John yelled, angry now at the reminder that Dutch's plan had not involved springing him from Sisika at the implication of his hanging. "Tahiti!? Timbuktu!?"

"That's enough! What's wrong with you all!? What happened to loyalty!?" Javier glanced around at the others riding behind him and Bill.

It was John's turn to scoff then. He shook his head. "Yeah. What did!?"

"Thank you Javier, Bill. Right now, it doesn't matter how we got here. These men need our help! I _have_ a plan! _This_ is the plan! So either stick with me, or _cut loose!_ Because I am tired of this _constant_ dissent! Long tired of it! Now come on!" Dutch bucked his feet, spurring The Count on ever faster, forcing the end of the debate as they thundered down through the edge of the Grizzlies and into New Hanover.

They encountered an injured man as they got closer to Cornwall Kerosene and Tar, hunched over on his horse and begging them to leave him and join in the fight to help Eagle Flies. It felt like an ill omen indeed, and Willa only had time to glance back at the poor wounded man once before they'd rounded a bend in the trail and lost him to the night.

* * *

Back at Beaver Hollow, things were eerily quiet. Micah, Joe and Cleet had retreated back into the cave after the others rode off, leaving Pearson, Miss Grimshaw, Uncle, Kieran and the girls all to their own devices. It was silently acknowledged that they were all incredibly grateful for this. Abigail struggled for a long while to get Jack to fall asleep. He was still spooked from his encounter with Micah, and the poor boy was scared to high heaven that he would come back in the night to wreak some kind of mischief upon him.

Pearson, Kieran, Mary-Beth and Uncle had holed themselves up at the central campfire, sharing a bottle of gin back and forth and muttering between themselves quietly. Pearson had been a bundle of nerves ever since they'd fled to Beaver Hollow, and it seemed there was no quelling his fears that they were going to be gunned down in a hail of bullets any day now. Grimshaw, stalwart and stoic as ever, had gone off by herself to drink her worries away by the cook fire. She'd always been wary of Micah, but her recent and recurring spats with Dutch were starting to leave nothing but a bitter taste in her mouth; even she had to finally admit to herself that she had lost sight of Dutch's vision somewhere along the line, and it left her with a great unrest settled deep in her chest that she hadn't experienced in a good number of years.

Karen and Tilly had taken up guard duty for the night. Sam sat on one of the rugs just outside John and Abigail's tent, Wilhelmina's Volcanic placed within easy reach just between his legs. His tongue poked out between his teeth slightly as he took a whetstone to his hunting knife, still figuring out just the right angle to use to sharpen the blade.

He heard a sigh escape into the air just behind him and glanced up over his shoulder to see Abigail exiting the tent, turning to draw the flaps closed gently behind her. She smoothed down her skirts and took a seat on the ground beside Sam, bumped his shoulder with hers gently. "How you gettin' along, Mr. Bellefleur?"

His mouth quirked, and he let the whetstone and the knife dangle in his fingers, resting his elbows on his knees. "Okay. Worried about Arthur and Miss Willa, and...well, everybody, I guess. She said we're gonna leave soon, but...but we're in a lot of trouble, ain't we...?" He blinked hard, glanced over briefly before turning his head fully to look up at her.

A sad sort of smile crossed Abigail's face as she drew up her knees, locking her arms around them. "We're in a bit, sure. But it's nothin' those two can't handle. They got big, big hearts. The both of 'em. We ain't gotta worry with them around."

"...and Dutch? and Micah?"

Abigail's eyes narrowed and she looked off ahead toward the night-time shadows adorning Pearson's chuck wagon. The dim light from the fire cast flickering shapes across it, moving and shifting seemingly of their own accord. "Well, Dutch ain't had nothin' but a big ego for a while now. And Micah...tch. Micah's got a big ol' case of shit-for-brains."

Sam couldn't help huffing out a small laugh at that, and it drew a truer smile from her to hear it. A silence fell over them for a few moments. "I wish I could help. I know I'm just a kid and all, but..." His mouth quirked and he swallowed a little lump in his throat, set the whetstone on the ground. "I shot a big old wolf last week that probably would've chewed Mr. Morgan right in half. I can do things. I can help..."

Abigail chewed her lip. She cleared her throat, shifting slightly. "Well, I got somethin' you might be able to help with..."

* * *

Willa gaped as they finally approached the oil field, getting a clear view as they passed out of the hills. The place was in flames, a thick black plume of smoke roiling up into the crisp night air. The army would have absolutely no trouble spotting it, and they were sure to investigate soon if they hadn't come sniffing around already. She felt her mouth drying up, glanced over at Sadie riding beside her, and Arthur who had moved up in the line to ride opposite John.

They stopped just near the base of the hills, where a small group of Wapiti men met them. There was some talk about finding Eagle Flies down in the mess of the fight, but she didn't hear what was being said; she was too focused on what had transpired back at Beaver Hollow and on their ride out. It was clear now that Eagle Flies had not heeded her advice, had let Dutch steer him toward this showdown possibly long before she had ever warned him against it.

And Dutch...Dutch had his hands all over it, of course. He didn't care if those boys got massacred as long as it drew attention away from him. He couldn't care less about the rest of the tribe either, she was sure of it now. But it confused her that he was so eager to ride in and help. Wouldn't he want to stay as far away from this fight as possible? He was putting everyone there at risk, himself included. She couldn't wrap her head around what his motive could possibly be.

"Have it your way. The rest of you, ride with me! Let's meet up at the factory!" Dutch spurred The Count back into a gallop down the hill, several of their group and some of the Wapiti splitting off to ride with him.

Willa was shaken out of her thoughts as the group broke off, turning to look at Arthur as he started speaking.

"Go wit' him, try and help there, I'm better off alone."

Charles gave a brief shake of his head, glancing past Wilhelmina over to Sadie, who also nodded. "We're riding with you."

Arthur huffed out a short sigh and nodded. He looked over at Wilhelmina a little hesitantly; he knew she was pissed. He wanted to ask her to stay behind, but he knew she'd have none of it.

"'Course I'm stayin' with you, fool."

"C'mon then!"

Arthur bucked his feet and led them off down the hillside and into the battle, and a battle it was. Willa thought their earlier fight had been bad, but it was nothing compared to this. There were army soldiers everywhere, and her nerves were having a hard time holding up to the task that she'd set upon herself. She watched Sadie fly head first into the fight, tried to be as brave as her friend was, but the truth was that she was scared shitless. There was too much to lose here; every soldier was the potential for one of their own dead, and there were far more of the soldiers than there were of them.

They fought their way across the oil fields towards where Charles had last seen Eagle Flies, and if not for Arthur's uncanny ability with his guns, the young man would have been dead when they stumbled across him with a soldier pinning him down. Arthur put a bullet neatly between the man's eyes and ran to help Eagle Flies to his feet to join the others in battle closer to the factory.

They fought up through the ramshackle rows of workers' quarters, meeting an army train and nearly getting blown to hell by a Gatling gun. If not for the buildings there for them to take cover behind, Willa was sure they'd have all been dead. She wasn't exactly sure how she hadn't taken a bullet or several already, given the circumstances, but seeing Arthur and the others fighting as they did managed to give her some kind of vicarious bravery.

They eventually managed to regroup with Dutch and the others outside the factory, fighting their way in towards it. Wilhelmina had become convinced she'd never hear the end of the gunfire or the explosions that were rocking the ground from all directions, but at some point the cacophony slowed and they were granted a blessed reprieve from the onslaught. The air was full of the stench of acrid smoke from the burning fields out beyond and all the spent gunpowder they'd left in their wake. She crumpled against a stack of barrels, coughing into a fist as she let her shotgun hang at her side. She'd been grazed by a couple bullets, but somehow had sustained no major injuries, and it seemed as if the story was the same for the rest of the gang. Astounding.

Sadie came up beside her, put a sweaty hand on her shoulder. "You did good out there, girl."

Willa straightened up a bit, giving the other woman a weak smirk. "If by 'good' you mean absolutely shittin' myself, then yeah, I guess I'd have to agree..."

Sadie barked out a laugh and clapped her shoulder before moving off to check on a few of the others.

Willa puffed out her cheeks and shook her head. She couldn't look back at the carnage that lay behind them; if she thought too much about it, something in the back of her mind told her she'd probably retch all over the place. Instead, she moved off away from the barrels and saw Arthur, Dutch and Eagle Flies up on the walkway leading into the factory. Charles ran up to join them, then Arthur and Dutch split off to make their way inside. She frowned, wondering what they could possibly need in there. Dutch called out for the rest of the gang to make a run for it before they disappeared inside, leaving her all the more confused.

* * *

Sam stood on his tiptoes in front of Dutch's bookshelves, gingerly craning his neck up and running his fingers along the edges in the dim light of the single lantern left burning on the small table by the cot. He was looking for a key. He'd agreed to help Abigail get it with very little hesitation, especially when she'd assured him that it wasn't actually stealing from Dutch; rather, he'd be helping the others get back what was rightfully theirs in the first place and helping them to escape, besides.

He sucked in a sharp breath when he suddenly heard voices off in the direction of the cave; Micah and his friends must have finally been done with whatever their business was. He stilled, holding that breath in as the men's voices got louder the closer they came. Micah's tone was low, but he could pick it out easily, though he wasn't necessarily trying to.

Sam blinked and glanced over his shoulder toward the lantern, suddenly realizing that the men would be able to see his shadow against the cream-colored canvas. He dropped back to the balls of his feet and dashed across the short width of the tent, grabbing for the small knob at the side of the glass and metal lamp and twisting it to shorten the wick inside and extinguish the flame.

* * *

Willa bounded up the stairs that opened on the walkway, slinging her shotgun over her shoulder. "Charles, Eagle Flies!"

The two men looked over at her, momentarily distracted by the sounds of the others spurring their horses back off into the plains.

"I have to round up the rest of my men! I'm not leaving them!" Eagle Flies swiveled his head, his own shotgun clutched close at his chest. He was adorned with a few streaks of blood over his war paint, but he looked hale nevertheless.

Charles made his way over to her, letting his sawed off dangle at his side. "You should go with the others, Willa. We got lucky so far, but the longer we hang around the more dangerous things will get."

She shook her head, looking at him defiantly. "Oh, no. I ain't leavin' Arthur. What the hell did they go in there for, anyway?"

Charles shrugged awkwardly. "I'm not sure. Seems like Dutch is lookin' for something. I don't know what."

She sighed and shook her head, side eyeing him as he walked past her.

"I'm going to help Sadie keep a lookout and round up those men. If you're staying, stick close by him, will you?" Charles nodded back towards Eagle Flies.

"Oh, I will..."

* * *

"Look at these parasites..." Micah leaned back in his chair, kicked his feet up on the camp table in front of the cave mouth. He was being loud on purpose, training his gaze at the others sat around the campfire while he motioned vaguely with one hand. "I been sayin' all along we need to get rid of 'em. Suckin' the rest of us dry is all they're doin'. Holdin' us back."

Joe and Cleet sat to either side of him, smoking cigarettes and chuckling at his mean little jokes and jabs. Uncle and Kieran both glanced back behind them towards the table. Kieran clenched his hand around the neck of that bottle of gin, and Mary-Beth put a gentle hand on his arm. "Kieran..."

Sam poked his head out of Dutch's darkened tent, glancing over at the men sat at the table. He was trembling, scared to death at what he'd heard them talking about as they'd come up out of the belly of the cave. He knew Micah was a mean son of a bitch, but he'd never imagined the extent of it; not until he'd heard those terrible things coming from the man's own mouth. He had to warn Willa. He hoped they got back soon. In the meantime, he had the key he'd finally found tucked underneath Dutch's gramophone clutched tightly in one fist, waiting for his chance to sneak out and slip by the men at the table.

"All they do is sit back and let the rest of us do all the work. Fat man over there can't even cook us a decent meal to save his life! The old fart ain't been good for nothin' since the dawn of time, most likely. And these women won't even fuck a fella to say thank you for all the hard work we put in..." Micah snatched up a bottle of beer off the table, bringing it up toward his lips.

Kieran shrugged Mary-Beth's hand from his arm, shoved the gin into Pearson's hands and stood up. He'd had just about enough.

" _Kieran_!" Mary-Beth hissed, glancing back at the men and then looking up at him pleadingly. "Please, leave it be..."

He looked down at her, brazen from the drink. "I can't, Miss Gaskill. I'm sorry, I just can't listen to him no more..." He turned and stalked over towards the camp table, fists clenching at his sides. He was shaking a little bit, partly from his anger and partly from his fear.

"Ah, the O'Driscoll. To what do we owe the great displeasure?" Micah dropped his feet from the table and leaned forward in the chair, causing the front legs to come down hard on the ground. He swirled the bottle in his hand languidly, sneering up at Kieran in the darkness.

Kieran came to a stop on the other side of the table, eyes flicking back and forth to Joe and Cleet nervously before he addressed Micah. He tried to puff himself up a bit. "I want you to shut the hell up, Micah. You ain't got no right to talk about folk like you been. We's all doin' what we can."

Micah barked out a harsh laugh, drained the rest of his beer and smoothly smacked the bottle over the edge of the table, the sound of glass tinkling almost seeming louder than it should have. The broken neck he kept clutched in his fist, the sharp and splintered end of it glinting meanly in the low light from the fire. He stood up and walked around the table to Kieran boldly, got right up in his face. "I do whatever the hell I want, _O'Driscoll._ _I_ do the work around here. _I_ bring money in. _I_ been comin' up with plans to get us the hell out. What you done, hmm? Play with the horses? Try and get up in the little filly's bloomers?" He motioned toward Mary-Beth with the bottle, his other hand settling comfortably at his hip, near one of his holsters.

Kieran grit his teeth, his fists clenching and unclenching. Suddenly, he was bringing a fist up and before he even knew it his knuckles were connecting hard with Micah's cheek, surprising the other man almost as much as he surprised himself. Micah's head whipped to the side from the impact, but before he could bring the broken bottle up to attack Kieran with it, he was getting punched again, right in his throat that was already sore from being choked multiple times earlier in the night. He found himself wheezing, eyes rolling up toward the sky as the bottle dropped from his hand. He stumbled a few times and then collapsed on the ground in a heap, unconscious.

Kieran's mouth fell open and he wrung his hand out furiously, knuckles singing with pain from the impacts. Joe and Cleet both shoved their chairs back and went to stand up, when suddenly the sound of a gun cocking made them look over. Karen was coming up from the direction of the scout fire, her rifle pointed in their direction. "Don't you fuckers do nothin' you'll regret. I'll shoot you so full of holes, even your mommas won't recognize you!"

"We both will." Tilly's voice echoed from the other side, behind Kieran; she'd heard the commotion and come up past the others from where she'd taken guard duty over by where the horses usually grazed.

None of them noticed Sam slinking by in the darkness off to the side.

Pearson took a long pull from the bottle before shoving it into Uncle's hands and standing up. "That's it. That's it, goddamnit, I've had just about all I can take of this..."

His hands fidgeted with the waistband of his pants as he hiked them up and adjusted them nervously, making his way toward his wagon. "I'm leavin'. Tonight. Don't know where I'm going, but I'd suggest the rest of you pack up your things and do the same!"

Uncle and Mary-Beth both stood then, looked at each other briefly before trailing Pearson with surprised gazes.

"There's room in the wagon for anyone that wants to come!" He got right down to business breaking down the little stall he'd set up in front of the chuck wagon, grabbing a stack of empty crates to start throwing his supplies into.

Kieran turned on his heel, walking over to where Mary-Beth and Uncle still stood. He offered Mary-Beth his hand, looking at her pleadingly with his one good eye. "Miss Gaskill. Mary-Beth. I...I know these folks is your family, and maybe it don't seem right to just up and leave, but..."

She blinked, shook her head briefly, looked past him toward Karen and Tilly with their guns still trained on Micah's cronies. They stood with their hands up in the air, glancing around the camp nervously. Karen's gaze flicked toward them. "You should go, Mary-beth. You'll be safer with a wagon and a few men watchin' your back. Go and forget about all this shit, while you got the chance."

"Karen, what about you? What about Abigail and Jack? And...and Tilly?" Mary-Beth cast her gaze toward Tilly then, sniffling some as she felt tears welling up in her eyes.

"Go on, Mary-Beth. We'll be alright. Somebody's gotta stay here and make sure these chuckleheads don't do nothin' stupid..." Tilly readjusted her grip on the rifle, shot her own brief look over at Mary-Beth.

Uncle shifted, cast his own gaze back and forth. He took a pull from the gin bottle but didn't set it down. "Well...I know I've bided my time about as long as I could." He cleared his throat and sauntered off away from the fire toward where Pearson was attaching the horse tack to the front of his wagon. "If I could, Simon, I think I'd be much obliged if I could hitch a ride out of here with you."

Pearson nodded absently, pointing a finger over toward the horses. "Go and get two of the draft horses, will you?"

Abigail watched on silently from her spot in front of her and John's tent. Sam had finally made his way back to her, and she'd taken that key he'd pressed into one of her hands, tucked it secretly into the front of her blouse. "Mary-Beth, you should go. Get outta here. And don't look back."

Mary-Beth's head swiveled towards Abigail, and all of a sudden she was running to the other woman. Abigail stood, smoothing down her skirts before Mary-Beth smothered her in a big hug, the tears flowing freely now. "Oh, Abigail! Oh...oh shit!" She hiccuped out a little sob, held the other woman at arm's length. "You're gonna wait for John, aren't you...?"

Abigail nodded and gave Mary-Beth a sad little smile, reached up to tuck one of her lovely curls behind her ear for her. "You know I got to. Go with Kieran and Pearson, darlin'. Go now, while Dutch ain't here."

Mary-Beth sniffled and gave her a weak nod. "Please, tell Arthur and Willa I said goodbye. Would you?"

"Of course I will, honey. You stay safe, alright?"

Mary-Beth nodded again, reaching up to wipe her tears away with the heel of one hand before pressing a kiss to Abigail's cheek and running over to the girls' wagon to start filling a traveling bag with her things.

Kieran whistled for Branwen, then glanced back toward Karen and Tilly. "Thank you, ladies. Thank you for everything. And, if you could...tell Arthur and Miss Willa thank you as well."

* * *

Wilhelmina grabbed Eagle Flies' arm, yanked him behind a pallet stacked high with crates as a battalion of soldiers came thundering up to the factory. She heard someone yelling orders for them to get inside and she cursed. "Shit! Arthur and Dutch are still in there!"

"Let some of them get inside. They'll hear them going in and have time to fight back. We can pick off the stragglers out here first, then go in to help."

She looked at him, shook her head briefly. "Is this what you wanted, kid?"

His brows furrowed as he brought his shotgun up close to his chest. "I wanted them to leave my people be. And I know that's never going to happen now. So I will do what I must!" He shrugged away from her and darted out from behind the crates, started blasting the soldiers that waited outside.

She spat out another curse and followed him. Between them, Charles and Sadie, and the rest of the Wapiti warriors, they made quick work of the remainder of the army men that had stayed outside the factory.

Willa ran back for the walkway with Eagle Flies close at her heels, shouldering open the door and blasting a soldier that happened to be standing just in front of it keeping watch. He was thrown backwards with the close proximity of the shotgun and they ran past him without a second glance.

The first floor was swarming with soldiers and they fought their way through the maze of barrels and heavy machinery until Willa faltered, hearing a desperate cry coming from the next room.

 _"Dutch! I need help!"_

"Arthur!" She cocked her shotgun and ejected the two spent shells from inside, fumbling for two fresh ones to slip into the chamber.

Eagle Flies ran into the room past her and she heard a few gunshots crack out. She slammed the chamber of her own gun shut and bolted in after him. Arthur was on the floor, in the process of shoving a corpse off of himself. A few other bodies lay scattered around him, and she saw Eagle Flies bring the butt of his shotgun against another soldier's head to bring him down. She was about to run for Arthur when she caught movement out of the corner of her eye. She brought the shotgun up and pulled the trigger before even taking the time to aim, and the shell went just a bit wide, but it did the trick. Some of the buckshot hit the man she didn't know was Colonel Favours in the arm, causing him to let out a disgruntled cry as his revolver fell from his hand. He grabbed his arm and cursed, turned tail and ran.

Eagle Flies was about to bolt after him when Arthur grabbed him by the arm and started hauling him toward the other door. "Not now, boy! This is over! We need to get the hell out of here!"

Wilhelmina fell into step behind them, walking backwards for a ways to make sure Favours wasn't going to sneak back up from behind them to try and get another shot in. "Arthur, what happened!?"

 _"A lot._ I'm thinkin' I just got left for dead..." Arthur grit his teeth, hauling the chief's son toward the factory door with a firm grip. He kicked the door open with one powerful swing of his boot, pushing Eagle Flies outside.

Dutch, Charles, Sadie and a few of Eagle Flies' men were gathered with the horses down below. Dutch turned and looked up at the sound of the large steel door banging open, nodded up at Arthur nonchalantly. "We need to go!"

Eagle Flies descended the stairs to the ground in a huff, going for his Thoroughbred. Arthur stayed right where he was at the edge of the walkway, pointed an accusing finger down at Dutch. "You...you ran away!"

Dutch scoffed and waved a hand at Arthur. "I did no such thing! Don't be a fool!"

Willa slung her shotgun over her shoulder, followed Arthur as he slowly descended the stairs and kept a wary eye on Dutch.

"Now we got some money. And with the train job, well...we got a whole _lot_ of money..."

Willa looked back and forth between the two of them, stuck a hand back toward the factory. "Money? Is that what you dragged him in there for!?"

"I ain't talkin' about the fuckin' _money,_ Dutch! I went _down_ back there! I was surrounded! And _you...left...me..."_

Wilhelmina's eyes went wide. She could see Arthur's hand trembling where he kept it pointed, accentuating his accusation. Suddenly, it clicked in her head. That was why Dutch was so eager to ride out here and help. He knew there was money in the factory. He had taken Arthur in there with him to get it, business as usual, but when those soldiers had broken in and somehow overwhelmed them, he had made a choice. And that choice had been the money.

She grit her teeth, baring them in a grimace. "You goddamn son of a bitch..." She shouldered past Arthur, blood pulsing in her ears as she hauled a fist back.

"Oh, please!" Dutch chuckled as he whipped one of his revolvers out, leveled it at her and stopped her in her tracks. "I knew he'd be just fine! And he is!" His voice lowered and took on a dangerous pitch. "Now calm yourself, miss. Before someone _really_ gets hurt..."

Arthur's mouth thinned out into a hard line. He was breathing like a bull, trying to keep his anger in check. He reached out, curled his fingers around her arm, tugged her back beside him.

The others watched on, frowns masking their faces. Sadie and Charles both looked downright shocked. Eagle Flies swiveled his head, trying to keep an ear out for anymore hostiles. "We should leave here. I need to get back to the reservation..."

Dutch glanced back at him, spun his revolver in his hand and stuck it back into its holster before hooking a foot into one of The Count's stirrups. "That you should, son! Good work out there. And as for us, we've got to get back to camp and prepare!" He hauled himself up into the saddle, grabbing up the reins in one hand. "Everything is comin' together...exactly as I planned." Dutch flashed them a self-satisfied little smile as he tapped a finger against his temple.

Arthur only stood there and shook his head, at a loss for words. He felt like his entire world had finally flipped upside down. If not for Eagle Flies coming in when he had, and then Wilhelmina coming in just behind him...would Dutch have even cared? He didn't seem to care much now, being called out on the implication that he'd left his so-called son to die or be captured.

Dutch leveled his gaze at the two of them. "May I humbly request your presence? Or are you going to run off and sulk while we've got important work to be at?"

Willa twitched, took a step forward and pointed a finger at Dutch. " _Fuck you-!"_

Arthur cut his hand out, pressed her arm down, put himself in front of her and turned his back on Dutch, spoke at him over his own shoulder. "We'll be there when we can..."

Dutch scoffed and shook his head. "As you wish. Usually is, nowadays. The rest of you! Let's ride!"


	34. Beaver Hollow - Best Laid Plans

Dutch bucked his feet and The Count took off, heading east back toward the hills. Sadie and Charles looked at each other, then they both looked over at Arthur and Willa. He had his hands on her shoulders, and she was visibly shaking.

"I'm going with Eagle Flies. The three of you are welcome to join us." Charles shifted in Taima's saddle uncomfortably. "I understand if you don't want to head back to camp just yet after...that."

Arthur glanced back over his shoulder. "Thank you, Charles."

Sadie cleared her throat. "I guess I'll go back then. Ain't sure what to expect, but someone's gotta keep an eye on Micah. Are...are you two gonna be okay?" She looked down at them from atop Bob, tried to snatch a glimpse at Wilhelmina, but she had her head bowed toward Arthur's chest, unresponsive.

"We'll be alright, Sadie." Arthur's voice had taken on a hauntingly neutral tone. "The plan ain't changed. Mine ain't, at least. We do this train job, make old Dutch happy one last time, get some of the cash...and then we're gone. Dust in the wind..."

Sadie nodded, though he couldn't see it. "I'll go back. Try and speak to John and the others..." She waited briefly, seeing if anyone else had anything to say. When no one did, she took up Bob's reins and spurred him off in the direction Dutch had gone.

"We need to go," Eagle Flies reached down to pat his Thoroughbred's neck. The horse was impatient, stamping its hooves and shifting uncomfortably beneath him. The lingering smell of blood and smoke on the air certainly wasn't helping.

"I know..." Arthur took a step back, still holding Wilhelmina by her shoulders. He looked down, tried to get her to look up at him. She wouldn't. He let out a ragged sigh, dropped his hands to take one of hers in his own. "C'mon, sweetheart. Ride wit' me. We'll have Tulip follow up behind."

Arthur brought her over to Rei, and she followed easily enough, though her head remained bowed. Wet streaks adorned her face in the dim light from the fires that still burned, only visible when he helped her up onto the back of the horse. He grit his teeth, at a loss for words. He didn't know what to say to make things better. This had gone a hell of a lot further than he'd ever intended it to, and she was suffering for it. She was suffering for his complacency. A heavy guilt settled within him, like a brick in his gut. He whistled for Tulip after he'd mounted up in front of Wilhelmina and the mare came along easily enough, used to him and his voice now that they'd spent so much time together.

Eagle Flies led them off east and then north, well away from Fort Wallace, Arthur and Charles following dutifully behind. Arthur felt Wilhelmina's hands curl tight around his waist, and he let one hand fall from the reins to cover one of hers, threaded his big fingers between her small ones. "Ya know, my thinkin' is that Dutch used you. Used all of us, maybe. He ain't tryin' to help anyone but himself and his own crazy principles..."

Eagle Flies glanced back. "I am a grown man. No one made me do anything. If I had died, trying to save my people...it would have been an honorable death. Just as it would have been honorable dying for any one of you. But now...now I must face my father..."

"Your father will be happy that you are even still alive at all, but the rest of it?" Charles shot back with a tinge of anger clear in his voice. "That, back there...that was _bad_."

Eagle Flies narrowed his eyes, shooting another glance back toward Charles as the trees of Cumberland Forest flew by them. "You've seen our situation! It would be better to die fighting than sick and weak!"

Arthur shook his head. "It _was_ bad, but it sure as hell ain't worth you dyin'. Especially the way you came into that factory, guns blazin'!? And I...Jesus, I seen that Dutch turned crazy, and I couldn't believe it and I followed him anyway. Things should never have gone this far. He should never have encouraged this..."

Charles let out a surly little snort from opposite Arthur and Wilhelmina. "So much death, and for what? Just so we can have enough money to be able to run away from what we've done?"

Arthur sighed, closed his eyes for a moment. "There used to be some...some _reason_ to it. Lines that couldn't be crossed. We even helped some folk. But those lines...they been gone for some time now."

Charles glanced over at Wilhelmina, a look of pity crossing his features. She had her head turned away from all of them, facing the hills and trees off to their right. "The time has come for us to draw our own lines, Arthur. Decide where we go from here. You have people that are depending on you, now. Not just the gang."

Arthur knit his brows, clutching Wilhelmina's hand a little tighter against his stomach. "I...I know. I _swear_ , back there...Dutch just stood and watched. If it wasn't for these two, I'd be-"

"I know! I feel like he's descended into the kind of man he told us never to be. And that money, or the bonds, whatever it is...I don't want a cent. There's too much blood on it."

"You're a good man, Charles. I'm...I'm sorry you got tangled up in all of this. Eagle Flies, what are you gonna do now?"

"We need to go back for the bodies of the men who fell tonight. After that...we can try to round up more men from the north. There are many who are ready to fight!"

Charles shook his head, frustrated as ever with the headstrong young man. "No! this is over...for all of us. Eagle Flies, whatever your father says, you must listen to him."

When they returned to the reservation a short time later, Rains Fall was understandably not well pleased. He was thankful they had helped keep his son alive, but he did not know how they would pay for the cost of Eagle Flies' actions. He bid Charles, Arthur and Wilhelmina to stay at least for the rest of the night before disappearing into his tipi to argue with his son into the early morning hours.

Wilhelmina had not said a word the entire time. Arthur removed his camping gear from Rei's saddlebags and unclipped his bedroll, stealing furtive glances at her all the while. Charles had retired and they were alone now, off at the edge of the reservation.

He sighed, bundled the things up under one arm and bowed his head, letting his free hand rest against Rei's flank. "Wilhelmina, I...would you please just say somethin'?"

She had her arms curled around herself, had been staring off into the trees for a while. She blinked and her gaze finally flicked over to him. Her breath hitched. Her voice was watery, little more than a whisper. "What do you want me to say, Arthur...?"

He finally turned away from the horse and looked up at her from under the brim of his hat. "I don't know. Maybe...that I'm a goddamn blind fool, that I drug you down into a mess I ain't sure we can get out of no more? That it ain't...it ain't worth it for you to keep wastin' your time like this?" He took a big breath, reached up to run his palm across his mouth, let his eyes wander up to the stars because it hurt him too much to look at her just then. "Jesus...you said you wanted to be done with all the blood and killin'...and you had to do more of it in the last few days than any goddamn person _ever_ should. This ain't...this, _me,_ all of it...it ain't _good_ for you, Wilhelmina. Sometimes I...I can't help feelin' you'd have been better off if you never met me..."

She tried to breathe, but her chest felt constricted. Every time she tried to inhale it was cut short by a body-wracking sob, each one bigger than the last, and that made her scared and panicked; and when she inevitably tried to breathe faster to compensate for it, it only made her feel as if her lungs were spasming; like she had no control. There were far too many thoughts fighting to be acknowledged inside her head. She had so much she wanted to say, and yet she wanted to say none of it. Every time she'd looked down and seen the blood spattered all over herself, it made her want to scream; it made her want to rip at her hair and claw at her eyes. She wished Dutch had just shot her and been done with it. She wished _she_ had shot _him._ She couldn't figure out which she desired more at that particular moment.

She heard Arthur's gear hitting the ground with a thud and a rustle of canvas, felt his big arms wrap around her, felt his fingers thread up into her hair as he pulled her against his chest.

"Hey...hey, now. C'mon, sweetheart, please. Please don't do this, don't fall apart on me now..." She heard his breath hitching in his chest, how strained his voice sounded in her ear. "I don't mean...look, I _need_ you, Wilhelmina, darlin'...I love you. I love you so much, it _hurts_ sometimes. And I just...I'm finally startin' to see why it was Eliza and Mary never wanted me, and it scares me to death thinkin' I expect more from you. 'Cause I shouldn't. Any person knows what's good for 'em shouldn't put their own life in danger 'cause of me. I ain't worth it..."

She tried to catch her breath. "I don't...I c-can't..." She shook her head uselessly, clawed her hands into the fabric of his shirt, clutching at it.

He shushed her softly, nested his chin against her hair. He felt a few fat raindrops hitting his shoulders, but shrugged them off for the moment. "I meant what I said earlier. It should never have gone this far. I just...I just thought, if I could only get through to Dutch, but...but there _ain't_ no gettin' through to him no more..."

"If I...if I'd lost you, I..." Another sob shook her. "You're the _only_ thing I got, Arthur. The only thing! And I...I wanted to come out here just as bad as Dutch did! I wanted to _help_ , but...but how do you help somethin' like that? How do you...how do you wash away all that blood!?"

He shook his head, rubbed her back gently to try and help calm her down. "Ain't no helpin' it. I think...Eagle Flies was gonna do what he was gonna do, no matter what. And Dutch only encouraged it. I know you just wanted to help, sweetheart. It weren't none of your fault..."

She sniffled, muttering into his chest through gritted teeth. "He left you to d-die...he _threatened_ me...th-threatened me even _before_ tonight. _Why_ , Arthur? _Why are you still gonna rob that fucking train with him!?"_ She pulled back, suddenly puffed up with righteous fury, searched him with her eyes.

His brow knit, a pained expression crossing his weary features when she pulled herself out of his arms. "'Cause we are gonna need money if we _ever_ wanna get far enough away from this. I mean...you was right, ain't no way we can go west. I ain't even sure I should stay in the country. And...and for Jack. I need to get John and Abigail and that boy outta this...and I gotta stick around if I'm gonna do it..."

She shook her head again and wrapped her arms around herself, looking away.

He took a step toward her. "And...and I want nothin' more than for you to be safe. Okay? Nothin'. So I think...I think you should take Sam and you should go." He took another step, slowly, as if he were approaching a skittish animal. "Hide out in Bluewater, or ask old Hamish if you can stay wit' him for a few days..."

She glanced up at him sullenly, her lip curling. "Then who's gonna look out for you?"

He blinked. "What you mean?"

"Well it's obvious Dutch ain't! And he...I _gotta_ go back to camp to get Sam either way, and...and...Arthur, it's just...you _always_ look out for everybody else. But it feels like nobody's ever lookin' out for _you_. If...if you convince John to get outta there, it'll just be you and Micah and Dutch and the others who all wanna take a bite out of you now. I can't lose you, Arthur. I can't..."

He clenched and unclenched his fists, letting out a heavy sigh. He turned and stooped to gather up his tent, grabbing up the poles and getting to work planting them in the ground to keep himself busy. It was working into a steady rain now.

Wilhelmina watched him for a minute, conflicted. Finally she walked over and took one end of the canvas from him, helped him finish getting their meager shelter set up. She called for Tulip and the horse ambled over, nickering at her and shaking her head against the rain. Willa unclipped her own bedroll and gave the mare a few gentle pats and some whispered, watery compliments before turning away.

Arthur glanced up from where he'd taken a knee just inside the tent, taking the second bedroll when she offered it to him. He paused after he got it spread on the ground inside, resting a hand on his knee and staring down hard at the ground. "So what we gonna do...?"

She stooped next to him and he shuffled to the side, allowing her entry first so she wouldn't get anymore wet than she already was. Once she was in, he removed his hat before slipping in behind her. They both kicked their boots off into a respective corner of the tent, and then she was on her knees, hands planted on her thighs, looking at him hard in the darkness. Finally, she said, "I ain't leavin' you."

He sighed again, flopped down on his butt on top of one of the bedrolls, rested his elbows on his knees. He bowed his head and covered his eyes with one hand. "Wilhelmina, _please_..."

"I can't, Arthur. Not after tonight. Not after what he did..."

Arthur grit his teeth, finally let his hand fall away and looked over at her. "If it was just you and me, I'd have to let you, you know I would. But it ain't. You told that boy you'd take care of him. And it just...just makes more sense for you to go, darlin'...just for a few days..."

She scoffed. "Since when has any of this shit made sense, Arthur?"

His gaze turned very sober and he shuffled himself closer to her, scooped her hands up into his. " _You_ are the only thing that makes sense to me now. Takin' care of you and that boy and John and his family. And I can't risk lettin' you stay around. Not after Dutch pointed a goddamn gun at you. It ain't safe, not like it used to be...if it ever even was..."

Her lip trembled. She knew he was right, but that train job scared her. She'd listened in enough to know that it was an army train they were ramping up to rob, full of payroll and probably well-guarded. And with the way their luck had been, she saw far too much in her mind's eye to feel comfortable about letting him run off into another one of Dutch's acts of rebellion. "The last time you ran off with Dutch and told me you'd be back in a few days...it took a month, and you could've died a thousand times over. I thought you _were_ dead. If...if anything happens to you, Arthur..."

He shook his head, squeezed her hands gently. "But I _did_ come back. Hell, you ran off and almost got yourself killed, too. This ain't just about me. I am tryin' to look after you _and_ that boy, and ain't no question I'll be worryin' a hell of a lot less about it if you're somewhere else. Somewhere safe."

Her mouth quirked into a grimace as she spilled fresh tears despite herself, looking down and away from him. He sighed, gently shushing her, wrapping her up in his arms and pulling her down to lay beside him. He let her cry against his chest until she'd tuckered herself out and fallen asleep, laid there sleepless himself for what felt like a number of hours, a thousand dark thoughts clamoring for attention in his head.

When he did finally fall into a troubled sleep, he dreamed of the buck and the birds again. He'd had those dreams on and off since they'd been shipwrecked on Guarma, still had no idea what the hell it all meant. He always looked on as an observer, but he felt such an odd, innate connection with that deer that he couldn't quite place; and the birds - starlings, he was sure of it now - were still always circling and swooping just above, and sometimes one of them would be perched atop one of the buck's formidable antlers. He didn't know why, but he was sure it was the one he'd seen falling before. Like it was trying to make a life for itself on the ground now, when it really should have been up in the heavens. It unnerved him.

The next morning, Charles woke them. Captain Monroe had ridden in midway through the morning and approached Rains Fall with the news that Colonel Favours demanded a meeting. After what had transpired the night before, Charles was very clear about expressing his opinion that it was a trap; they wanted retaliation for what had happened at Cornwall Kerosene and Tar, but Rains Fall felt he had no choice besides diplomacy. He was getting ready to ride out with Captain Monroe, and Charles wanted Arthur to ride with them, as protection of sorts.

Wilhelmina argued that she also be allowed to go, but Arthur stopped her. If Rains Fall needed bodyguards, they would be taken a hell of a lot more seriously without a woman accompanying them; and as much as he reminded her that he knew how capable she was, what he said was the simple truth. Favours already held such disdain for the Wapiti, if he were to see a woman riding in with them, it would throw any chance they had at coming to an agreement on what little terms they could find out the window. Rains Fall demanded that Eagle Flies stay behind as well, seeming at the end of his rope with how reckless his son had been. He was still determined to try and come to terms peacefully, though he held out little hope for what would come of it.

And so they rode off and bid Wilhelmina to stay behind and help Eagle Flies make tentative plans for the tribe to pack up what little they had in preparation for flight. It was the only logical conclusion Rains Fall could come to, as much as it pained him. The army and Leviticus Cornwall, even in his grave, had already won. Sadly, he was right. Colonel Favours, his arm bandaged and in a sling from the buckshot he'd taken the night before, tried to have both Rains Fall and Captain Monroe forcibly arrested for treason. They had escaped, thanks to Arthur and Charles, though just barely, and Arthur told Charles to get Rains Fall back to his people while he escorted Captain Monroe to the nearest train station over at Emerald Ranch.

When Charles and Rains Fall rode back into Wapiti, things were set in motion fast. Willa barely had time to keep up as she trailed along after Charles, who talked while he walked in between letting people know that they needed to finish packing up their things in preparation to leave.

"But Charles, where are they gonna go!?" Willa splayed a hand in frustration, jogging to keep up with his long strides.

"We'll go north, most likely. After what happened with the factory and Colonel Favours today, I think our only option is try to cross the border; maybe seek amnesty in Canada..."

Willa stopped in her tracks. "We...?"

Charles stopped, bowing his head before turning back to face her. He sighed, hunching his shoulders, finally seeming to slow from the flurry he'd been in moments before. "Yes. I'm going to stay with them..."

She blinked. "Oh."

"Willa...listen, I-"

She shook her head. "No...no. I understand. Of course. It's just..." She spread her hands at her sides. "Shit. Oh, Charles...!"

Before he knew it Willa was barreling into him, wrapping him up in a fierce hug. His eyes widened momentarily, but then he relaxed into it and sighed again, ran his big hands up and down her shoulders. "I'm sorry..."

She sniffled and shook her head. "Don't be sorry, you fool. These people need you a hell of a lot more than _Dutch_ does! And I'm the one that's been wantin' folks to leave. I just..."

His brows furrowed and he took a step back, holding her out at arm's length so he could look down at her. "I know this is a...an uncertain time. Will the two of you be alright? I know he's...well, Arthur's been with Dutch a long time..."

Willa sniffled again and nodded, scoffed at herself for being so emotional and reached up to rub at her eyes with the heel of her palm. "Don't worry about us, Charles. Arthur wants me to take Sam and go hide until this business with the train is done, but...I don't know. I'm...I'm scared for him." She looked up at him very soberly then, chewing her bottom lip as she always did when she was nervous.

"Mm. After last night, I guess you have every reason to be. This is a nasty business we've gotten ourselves into. He'd be better to take you and Sam, cut and run _before_ they rob that goddamn train..."

"I know...I know. But he wants to go back for John and Abigail and Jack, and...and any of the others that ain't gone completely crazy. I mean, the way things are going...that gang...it's over, Charles. Dutch ain't gonna put those people on a boat, he's gonna get 'em all _killed_."

Charles hummed in agreement. Around them, wagons were being loaded up and tipis were being broken down and stored away for transport; they could hear Eagle Flies trying to argue with his father once more from several yards away. Charles let his gaze wander to the ground for a moment before he lifted his hands and placed them gently on her shoulders. "I know you want to stay and help the others too, Wilhelmina, but...you should listen to Arthur. Take Sam and go wait for him somewhere. I know just as well as you do, Dutch never quite welcomed you into the fold. Maybe it's safer if you let Arthur do what he needs to do."

She quirked her mouth, glancing up at him after a moment. "Does he know you ain't comin' back?"

"Not exactly. I only made my mind up after what happened this morning. I'll...need to tell him when he gets back."

* * *

Just after he'd put a fraught and incredibly disillusioned former Captain Monroe on the train with a few bucks he'd had in his pockets and a cynical warning about Guarma and Tahiti on his tongue, Arthur was startled when a hand touched his arm. He immediately reached for his revolver, but when he heard the particular lilt of the woman's voice addressing him he let his hand drop, embarrassed.

"Mr. Morgan!"

He cleared his throat and reached up to rub the back of his neck a little sheepishly. "Sister. What you doin' here...?" He took her elbow and gently guided her away from the tracks as the train let a loud whistle out into the air before it began chugging away from the station.

"Oh, I am on my way down to Mexico! They are finally sending me on a mission." She leaned in almost conspiratorially as he planted his hands on his hips and offered her a weary smile. "Brother Dorkins is _very_ jealous."

Arthur nodded and chuckled, letting his gaze flick back to Rei, hitched to a post at the end of the platform. He eyed both roads coming in and out of the station a bit nervously. He had to make his way back to the reservation to help get the tribe on their way. There was little else they could do at this point, and Rains Fall, for all intents and purposes, was now considered an enemy of the state.

Sister Calderón assessed him, tilting her head at a bit of an angle. "Is everything alright, Mr. Morgan? Am I...keeping you?"

"Uh, no, Sister. Just, uh..." Arthur huffed out a big sigh and spread his hands at his sides. "Guess I'm just thinkin' I ain't followed your advice very well, and now I'm...I'm feelin' kinda like I'm runnin' out of time..."

She squinted slightly, appraising him again. She seemed to do that every time they met; had some kind of uncanny ability to see straight into what his brain did a good job muddling up. "Oh? Would you like to talk about it? You know it hasn't been that long since last we spoke, Mr. Morgan. Things of a...spiritual nature often take their time coming to pass. It...is not as simple as turning on a light, or the firing of a gun..." Her eyes flicked down to the revolver at his hip very briefly.

He allowed himself another sardonic chuckle. "I guess I just...am startin' to see a whole lot more'n I ever did before. Or maybe I did, but I just didn't wanna _let_ myself see. A...a woman I love very much, she helped me see that a man I've also loved...like a father, for a long time...well, he ain't really the man I thought he was. And 'cause of him, I've...well, I've led a very bad life, Sister." Arthur looked away from her, out toward where the tracks disappeared around a bend in the prairie. "And I can't help but to think...that I seen how it is far too late. And the only thing I can do now is try and save her. Get her the hell away. Uh...pardon my language."

Sister Calderón set down her luggage and smoothed down the skirts of her nun's habit, taking a seat on one of the benches they'd come to stand beside. "We've all lived bad lives, Mr. Morgan. We all sin." She tilted her head again, a sly little smile curling up her mouth as she looked up at him. "But I know you."

He scoffed as he relented and took a seat beside the older woman. "You don't know me..."

"Forgive me, but...that's the problem. _You_ don't know you!"

He swiveled his head, squinting at her incredulously. "What you mean?"

"Oh, I don't know, but...whenever we happen to meet you're always helping people and smiling! But there always seems to be such turmoil in you, just under the surface. I _see_ one thing, yet you tell me another thing. You've made yourself a very confusing person, Mr. Morgan."

He blinked, looking down to where she had placed a gentle hand on his arm. "I...I don't know, Sister. I thought for a long time what I was doin' had some kind of...some kind of reason to it, some kind of righteous ends that'd justify the means. And it turns out I'm nothin' but a killer. And I'm scared it might be too late for me. But I can't..." He flexed his fists between his legs, leaning forward on the bench. "I can't put her in danger no more. I can't. It would kill me. I'd rather die a thousand times over than be the cause of somethin' happenin' to her..."

"Mm..." Sister Calderón looked ahead then, her brows furrowing slightly. "My husband died a long time ago. Life is...full of pain." She met his eyes again after a moment. "But there is also love and beauty. Why push the chance at love away? If you want so much for her to run, to presumably live a more...fulfilling life...why not want that same thing for yourself? You still feel as if you don't deserve it?"

"Hah..." Another scoff rippled through his shoulders and he shook his head. "I know I don't deserve it. God, I want to, more than anything. But...I just...I just don't feel like there's no happy end in this for me. And I can't...can't tell _her_ that. We are bein' chased to the ends of the earth." He fell silent for a minute, let his gaze wander back toward the tracks as he leaned back on the bench. "And I don't rightly know what I'm gonna do now..."

She let out a small sigh and planted her hands on her knees. "Start by being grateful that for the first time, you are seeing your life clearly. Break away from this man who has led you so far from where you want to be. You may love him as a father, as you say...but sometimes the strongest act of love is in the leaving of it."

They both looked up as another train blew its whistle, slowing on the tracks as it pulled into the station. Sister Calderón exhaled another sigh and got to her feet, and Arthur quickly stooped to grab her luggage for her before standing up himself. "Well, uh...I shall try, Sister..."

They made their way across the platform, stopping just before the entrance to one of the train cars. "There is always time, Mr. Morgan." She paused, glancing down and gently taking her traveling bag from him, grasping the handle with both hands. "You know, there is a biblical passage that warns against the dangers of following false prophets. You must start listening to your heart. Take control of your own future, Mr. Morgan. Or better yet, listen to this woman that loves you. Because if she does, she sees the truth you have not yet seen for yourself."

With that, Sister Calderón turned and stepped off the platform onto the steps of the train car. Arthur's jaw worked, but he couldn't exactly think of what to say just then. He cleared his throat and managed to give her a little two-finger wave, taking a step backwards. "Good luck in Mexico, Sister."

She offered him a warm smile in return, bowing her head slightly. "Goodbye, Mr. Morgan! Goodbye! Please be well!" Then she disappeared up into the train, leaving him alone again.

He turned and made his way back towards Llamrei, pulling his hat down low before mounting up to ride back to the reservation. He had no idea what to expect for when they got back to Beaver Hollow, but he wasn't getting his hopes up. In the meantime, it was the tribe that worried him; they would need to pack up and leave, fast. He bucked his heels and set Rei off at a gallop heading west.

When he got back up to Calumet Ravine, the reservation was a shell of what it had been that morning. Nearly everything had been broken down and bundled away into the backs of wagons, ready as it could be for what promised to be a harsh and unforgiving journey north as winter drew ever closer. Arthur spotted Wilhelmina, Charles and Rains Fall near the small cabins that dotted the western edge of the reservation and he rode Rei in closer, dismounting to approach them and see what he could do to help.

Charles only shook his head, assuring Arthur everything that could be done was already taken care of. Arthur paused when he was told that Charles would not be returning to Beaver Hollow, gave the other man an appraising look and, after a moment, a firm nod. He'd partially been expecting this since the events of the previous night, but Charles had come to be one of his closest friends over the last few months, and losing one more ally hit him a bit harder than he would have thought. They enveloped each other in a very manly hug, patted each other on the back. Charles told him to take his woman and draw his lines; to keep her safe, and help any of the others that he could.

Willa stood to the side to let them say their goodbyes, speaking briefly with Rains Fall, sniffling still the whole time. The chief put a gentle hand on her shoulder and gave her a small, reassuring smile. "I want to thank you, Miss Thorne, for everything you and Mr. Morgan have tried to do for us. I realize, in a sense, you and I are not so very different; in the eyes of the American government, at the very least. Thank you...for protecting my son. Great, hardheaded young fool that he may be, his heart has always been in the right place. I don't know what I would have done if..."

She shook her head, looked up at him very soberly. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry things still ended up this way. You...your people deserve better. I don't blame him for wantin' to fight, for bein' so angry. That was me for a long time. I just...I hope Canada treats you folks better."

He offered her a very weary, sad sort of smile as he let his hand drop. "As do I, Miss Thorne. As do I."

He moved away from her to shake Arthur's hand and offer some parting words, and while he was at that she was surprised to see Eagle Flies approaching, looking a bit sullen and stubborn with his arms crossed in front of himself. He stopped in front of her and gave her a very slight nod. Willa blinked and nodded in return, suddenly feeling very awkward and like he was waiting for her to say something.

"Eag-"

"Thank you." He cut her off, by accident it seemed, but once he'd gotten the momentum going to speak to her it seemed like he wasn't about to stop. Charles looked on from where he stood a few feet away, a barely perceptible smirk gracing his normally stoic features.

"For trying to help us." The young man cleared his throat. "Thank you."

"I...you're welcome. And...thank you. For saving Arthur last night. If...if you hadn't gotten into that room when you did..."

He shrugged a bit nonchalantly, focusing his gaze past her for a few seconds before meeting her eyes again. "Not many have risked their lives throwing their lot in with us. Even if Dutch van der Linde had selfish motivations, the three of you did not. I do not forget that."

She nodded, and was surprised when he stuck his hand out between them. She hesitated for only a moment before reaching out and grasping it with her own. It seemed Rains Fall still had much to impart to his unruly and impetuous son, but this final understanding between them was certainly a start. "Good luck..."

Eagle Flies gave her one final nod before he turned away, and then the wagons were being hauled off one by one by the horses and the able-bodied folk were mounting up to ride and Charles and Rains Fall followed suit. Soon after, Arthur and Willa made their way east again.

As they began passing north of O'Creagh's Run, Arthur nodded off to their right, toward the small cabin that sat at the southern side of the lake. "You wanna stop in, see if old Hamish'll let you and the boy camp out for a few days?"

Wilhelmina sighed from beside him and shook her head. "No. I ain't gonna put him out. I'll take the kid down to the shack in Bluewater." She looked down at Tulip's withers, knitting her brows. "But...Arthur...?"

"Hm?" He brought his attention back to her, squinting from under the brim of his hat in the bright afternoon sunlight.

"What if Dutch don't want to let you go...?"

He scoffed gently. "That ain't his choice to make no more."


	35. Beaver Hollow - Safety In Numbers

Things seemed different when Arthur and Willa rode back into Beaver Hollow. It was very quiet; even Sean had his mouth shut, sequestered off to the outskirts with Karen on that big old fallen log Strauss had used to haunt. Sam was the first one they met, brushing down Sadie's big stallion, Bob, just off to the side of where the trail stopped.

He fumbled the brush when he saw them, almost dropping it and then it bounced between his hands and then he caught it again in an impressive display of childlike reflex. He worked it between his hands nervously as he approached them, starting to talk before they'd even gotten a chance to get to the hitching posts to dismount. "Miss Willa! Arthur! Jeesus, am I glad you're back!"

Willa blinked, looking over at Arthur briefly before she slid down off the saddle and led Tulip over to one of the hitching posts. "Good to see you, too-"

She was cut off when he barreled into her, his arms wrapping tightly around her waist. She heard the horse brush make a small thudding sound on the ground somewhere behind her.

"Miss Willa, things ain't so good! I really need to talk to you, I-"

"Whoa, whoa." She held Tulip's reins up to the side, patting him on the back a little awkwardly with her free hand. "What happened? Micah didn't do nothin' to you, did he?" She suddenly used that hand to push him back to arm's length, leaning down to better inspect him for wounds or bruises. "I swear, if he touched you...!"

Sam blinked, and then shook his head. "No, no, he didn't do nothin' to me. I...I stayed with Miss Abigail and Jack, like you told me to, but...but..."

Arthur came up beside them then, resting a hand at the small of Wilhelmina's back. "You two all good? I got to go get cleaned up and then speak wit' Dutch, but...you're gonna speak wit' Abigail, like we talked about, right?"

Wilhelmina looked over at him and nodded. "Yes. I just gotta get Tulip hitched up, and then I'll go find her."

"Miss Willa-" Sam glanced back and forth between the two of them, looking like he had something awfully important to say.

"Listen Sam, I'm sorry, but on second thought, I need to borrow Miss Willa for a few minutes, okay? We had a rough couple days 'n I think a change of clothes could do the lady some good. Don't you, kid?" Arthur gave Sam a look that brooked no disobedience.

"I..." Sam blinked, and then really looked at the both of them. Their clothes and skin were stained with dirty brown splotches and smears. His face paled considerably. "Is...is that...b-blood?"

Willa frowned, turning away from the both of them to finally loop Tulip's reins over the hitching post. "Don't you worry about it, Sam. It's nothin'. We're gonna get cleaned up real quick. In the meantime, can you do somethin' for me?" She turned back to face him.

"Well, sure, I guess, but-"

"I need you to go get your things packed up. You and me and hopefully Miss Abigail and Jack...we're leavin'. Today. Now I'll explain more in a bit, and you can tell me what's been goin' on, but can you just do that for me, just for right now?" Willa started walking and put a hand at Sam's shoulder to guide him in towards the center of the camp while Arthur fell into step beside them.

Sam grimaced in confusion, glancing over his shoulder at the both of them. "Ain't Arthur comin' with us?!"

"I am, kid. I am. If things go well, Marston and I will meet up wit' you a little later, hopefully by tomorrow. We got some things we need to take care of first. You just..." Arthur trailed off, slowing to a stop and looking off to their right. "Where the hell's the chuck wagon?"

Willa blinked, looking over into the empty space on the grass Pearson's wagon and supplies had once taken up.

"Mr. Pearson left last night. Him and Uncle, Kieran and Miss Mary-Beth. They all left."

"Oh..." Wilhelmina chewed her lip, feeling a surge of emotion bubbling up in her chest, tightening it up like a vice. She hadn't even gotten to say goodbye.

Arthur huffed out a sigh. "So it goes...glad some of us still got some sense of self-preservation." He put his hand on Willa's back once again to start her moving toward his wagon. He wanted to at least get a few quick words with her in private - go over their plan one more time - before Dutch caught wind they were back. "Go on, kid. Go get your things packed up. I want you and Miss Willa outta here 'fore too long."

Sam huffed out a grunt and moved off away from them obediently just before they came up on Arthur's wagon. Arthur drew back one of the canvas flaps and ushered Wilhelmina inside before slipping in behind her. She sniffled as she moved off towards the table where her picture sat, amongst Arthur's other keepsakes that had somehow survived all their moves. She had a traveling bag tucked in underneath the little table, full of a few changes of clothes and some other varied supplies.

Arthur tossed his hat onto his cot and hunched down over his little washstand, dipping his hands into the basin of water and splashing it up onto his face before scrubbing vigorously to get the dirt and dried blood off of himself. He blinked and wiped the moisture away from his eyes, catching sight of her just squatting down there. "You okay...?"

She quickly stood, lifted the bag and plopped it down onto his cot, letting out a heavy breath. "Yes...just wishin' I'd got to say goodbye..."

Arthur sighed, moving away from the washstand to come up beside her, undoing his gun belt and dropping it onto the cot. "I know. Just be glad they got away when they did. Whatever finally prompted it, it don't matter." He leaned down to pull his boots off. "That's a whole handful of folk we ain't got to worry about no more."

She turned and made her way over to the washstand as he talked. "I know, I know. I just...hope they make it somewhere safe. I ain't used to worryin' about people, Arthur..." She scrubbed her own face with the water, frowning down at how suddenly the basin had become tinged with a brownish hue. "Now it feels like that's all I do..."

"Well, it ain't hard to do, given our particular situation." He kicked off his pants and unbuttoned his shirt, dropping it onto the cot once he'd shed it from his shoulders. He glanced back to see her at work removing her own clothing. "But now we got to worry about them that's still here. I imagine Sean and Sadie's comin' with us to hit this train, but Karen and Tilly? You should see if they'll go wit' you."

"Of course," she said as she came back up beside him. She dropped her pile of dirty clothing onto the cot with his, pausing to look over at him. "And Grimshaw...?"

Arthur scoffed. "You're welcome to try, but somethin' tells me she ain't gonna be leavin' Dutch. The two of them, they...they got a lot of history."

Willa turned to face him then, her carefully tethered anxieties finally seeming to snap at the mention of his mentor. She grasped at one of his arms just as he'd begun to turn toward his clothing trunk.

Arthur blinked, stopped in his tracks and turned back around at her insistent clutching. He sucked in a breath when she came right up, pressed herself against him and let go of his arm to cradle his bearded face with both of her hands. He leaned down, pressed his forehead to hers earnestly. "Hey. We got this, okay? _You_ got this. You get Sam and Jack and those girls down to Bluewater, and you keep 'em safe til we get there. That's all there is to it. Yeah?"

Her eyes swam. She blinked hard a few times, looking up at him. "Y-Yeah..."

He sighed, lifting a hand to cradle the back of her neck as he closed the small gap between them. Normally, in their surprisingly youthful love-sickness for each other, an embrace such as this would quickly give way to more lascivious activities. Stark naked as they were, they simply stayed pressed together for a few more stolen seconds, knowing they each had their own business to be about but neither one of them willing to be about it just yet.

Finally, Willa's lips parted from his. She steeled herself, puffing out a heavy breath and catching his gaze. "You're _sure_ you're gonna be able to get away with some of that money? 'Cause if you ain't, Arthur...there's no reason for you to be a part of this. You could run, right now, just grab John and all of us could just _go_..."

He shook his head slightly as he tore himself away to finally go to his trunk. "We are gonna need some of that cash. Ain't no way Dutch can say no..." He stooped, throwing up the lid on the old trunk and digging around inside it. "We're _all_ doin' the work of robbin' this goddamn train. So we all deserve a cut...whether or not anybody else stays around for what happens after ain't my business no more."

She swallowed a big lump and nodded, finally turning back to her traveling bag. She rummaged inside it, yanking out a decently clean pair of pants and frowning in mild surprise when that old blonde wig of hers got pulled out with them. It was ratty and misshapen from months of being stuck in the bottom of the bag. She let it drop onto Arthur's cot, went to shake the pants out, then stopped and just stood there for a moment.

She'd been wearing that stupid thing when she'd first met Lenny, the night they'd gotten hopelessly drunk back in Valentine. The night she'd truly made the first of many friends, the people in Dutch's gang that had all come together around a charismatic and liberal figurehead and created such a unique family that was linked not by blood, but by a shared desire for someplace to belong. Maybe Dutch really _had_ been different before; before his careening descent into some kind of heinous, vengeful scoundrel. The kind of scoundrel who would leave his so-called son to die rather than risk giving up a handful of stolen money.

Willa shook her head at her muddled thoughts; none of that mattered, not now. She yanked the pants on and then delved back into the bag to search for a brassiere and a new shirt. A heavy sense of finality settled itself upon her then; not just the knowledge of leaving the gang and all it had come to mean to her, but something else that pressed woefully at her heart and made her want to start crying all over again. She didn't want to leave Arthur with the others; John, Sadie and Sean were the only three left who would stick by him if things went wrong, and she found that to be surprisingly little reassurance against Dutch and Bill Williamson, and Micah and his two slimy friends. Javier, she had no idea about; he'd seemed conflicted when it came to Arthur, though she was sure at this point that his distaste for her had become solidified thanks to Micah. She made her mind up to speak with Sadie before they left, just in case.

She got her blouse tucked in and turned around to see Arthur buttoning up that black stand-collar shirt he'd let her wear that night back at Shady Belle when they'd got caught out in the rain sharing their first kiss. She'd never seen him decked out all in black before; it cut an imposing figure as he strapped his gun belt around his waist and then slung his bandolier across his chest.

He snatched his hat up off the cot, pausing before placing it onto his head when he caught her staring. "What?"

She shook her head, shrugging on her old black duster. "Never seen you dressed like that." She glanced down at her own characteristically dark attire. "We look like a couple of grim reapers, the pair of us..."

Arthur looked at her with a deadly serious glint in his eyes, the corners of his mouth turning down in a shallow grimace. "Good."

She quirked her mouth uncertainly, turning to cram all of her things back into her traveling bag. She sealed it up and hefted it in one hand, scooping the wig up in the other.

Before they exited Arthur's tent, he leaned back in and stole another firm kiss from her, threading his fingers into the hair at the back of her head.

She'd closed her eyes, but when he backed away they slid open and she frowned up at him, almost whispering. " _Anything_ goes wrong, you send one of the others to come get me, you got that?"

Arthur nodded, letting his hand linger at the back of her head for a few more moments. He didn't know what would happen, but he did know he would do no such thing if it meant putting them in danger. So far as he could tell, nobody else knew about Black Belle's old cabin down in the northern swamps of Lemoyne, and he just as soon preferred to keep it that way.

With that, they made their way back out into the camp. Arthur made for Dutch's tent while she walked over toward the central campfire and tossed the old wig into it, watching the flames start to lick and catch for a moment before turning away to try and find Abigail. It didn't take long; she was sequestered inside her and John's tent, helping Jack get some of his things packed away.

Wilhelmina stood in the entrance, giving the other woman a nod of greeting when Abigail looked up from the bag they had open on John's cot. "Good to see you gettin' ready. We gotta talk, Abigail."

Her brows drew down. She stuffed a few more articles of clothing into the bag before directing Jack to finish up. Abigail smoothed down her skirts and took a few steps over to Willa, crossing her arms. "John and I been talkin'. Figured it's best if we leave with you and Arthur. Things ain't good here, Willa..."

"You're right. Sam tried to tell me about it, but we ain't exactly got time right now. You can fill me in on the road. I came to ask if you and Jack will leave with me, today. Soon."

Abigail blinked. She leaned in close, lowering her voice to something of a hiss. "Willa, I ain't got the chance to go grab that money yet!"

Wilhelmina shook her head. "Arthur's convinced him and John'll be able to take a cut from the train. We ain't got time for worryin' about Dutch's little treasure chest anymore. I want you to come with me, somewhere safe, today. Karen and Tilly too. Arthur knows where it is. We'll stay there tonight, and wait for them to meet up with us."

Abigail's tongue darted out to wet her lips and she glanced anxiously over her shoulder towards little Jack, who was trying to get the bag latched up behind her; it was practically overflowing and he was having a tough time. "You're sure it's safe?"

Willa nodded. "I don't think anybody else knows about it, except Sadie and Charles. And Charles is long gone by now..."

Abigail frowned. "Oh..."

"Mama? I can't get it!" Jack let out a frustrated little wail, his own nerves frayed after witnessing all the hostility being thrown around the camp over the last few weeks; the last few days in particular.

Abigail turned around to go help him, running a hand through the boy's hair and gently ushering him aside. "I got it, sweetie." She glanced back. "Alright. I guess we're comin' with you, then. I'll go start tackin' up one of the draft horses after we're finished in here."

Willa nodded and exited John's tent, setting her bag down on the ground before skirting around Arthur's wagon to go over to where they'd seen Karen and Sean when they first rode in. She made her way out towards that log, stopping in her tracks when she heard Arthur raising his voice back over by the mouth of the cave. Something about the train. She glanced back there, caught sight of Micah and his two buddies sitting at that camp table like they fucking owned it. Micah raised his hand and wiggled his fingers at her, sneering out from under his mustache. She sneered right back and flipped him a single finger before continuing on her way.

Thankfully, Tilly was out there with Sean and Karen. The three of them looked over as Willa approached.

"Welcome back, Miss T'orne. Was gettin' awful lonely 'round here without you 'n English around, spreadin' all your mirth and good cheer and the like."

Willa squinted at Sean in something like irritation. "I'm sure. You robbin' that train with the rest of 'em, MacGuire?"

He nodded and handed Karen the cigarette he'd been smoking before slapping his hands on his thighs and standing up. "Aye. Ol' Johnny Marston had a wee chat wit' me about it. I'm t'inkin' Miss Jones 'n me are gonna take Strauss' old wagon and beat a happy trail right the hell outta here once all's said 'n done. I, uh...I owe a lot to Dutch, I do. But this?" He gave Willa an uncharacteristically sober look. "Shite, I'm only a couple 'o years older'n Leonard was, God rest his soul. You was right, Willa, back in Lakay. I was born rebel stock, sure...but I...I never t'ought it was gonna go this far."

"Good. Happy to hear you startin' to make some sense for once. I came over to talk to you folks about that, actually. The...escape plans, I guess." Willa's gaze moved between Sean and the two women. "Abigail and me, we're leavin'. We'll hole up down in Bluewater Marsh for a day or so, wait for the boys to meet up with us. Sean, you're welcome to tag along with Arthur and John. Karen, Tilly...will you ride with us?"

Tilly's mouth curled into a shallow frown. She looked worried, but she nodded nonetheless. "Much as I'd rather not be headed back there, yes, I will. After what happened last night...I ain't got no love for this dreadful place, nor for most of the people in it anymore."

Willa cast her gaze at Karen then. "C'mon, Karen. I could use another triggerwoman. What do you say?"

Sean and Tilly both looked down at her. She still sat on the log, smoking that cigarette Sean had handed off, looking cool as a cucumber with a flask in her other hand; and from the ruddy glow in her cheeks, it was obvious she'd been drinking from it for a while. She blew out a plume of smoke and squinted up at them. "We want the wagon?"

Willa's mouth quirked, and she briefly thought about how it would be easier for Abigail and Jack if they could ride in the back of a wagon, but she just didn't want to risk it. "I don't know, Karen. Think we'd be less likely to get stopped by Murfrees or the like if we're all on horseback. Wagon'll just slow us down."

Karen nodded. "Alright then. Well that thing's our ticket outta here. Sean and me's gonna sell what's left of the supplies in there to get some money. I'll stay back if it's all the same. Anyway, somebody's gotta keep old Grimshaw company."

"You sure, love?" Sean asked, sounding suddenly cautious.

"Yeeees Sean, I am sure." Karen stood up then, wobbling just a little bit. "I'll see you when you idiots get back from robbin' that train. And you..." She flicked the cigarette to the ground, leveling her gaze at Tilly. "Get the hell over here, Jackson." Karen opened up her arms, making gimme motions with the hand that wasn't still clutching the flask.

Tilly started choking up a little bit then, rushed into Karen's arms and enveloped her in a hug. "Oh Karen, please be careful!"

"I will, I will. You too, Tilly. I know you'll be okay though, you was always the smartest of us anyway."

Tilly scoffed as Karen let go of her, wiping her eyes with the heels of her hands and turning to give Sean a hug. Karen zeroed in on Willa then, coming in hot for another embrace.

Willa wrapped Karen in a big hug and patted her back firmly a few times. "You're _all_ some of the smartest women I ever met, dumbass. You keep him safe, you hear me?" She flicked her head in Sean's direction and made Karen bark out a raucous laugh.

"Oh, I'll keep him tucked right up under my skirts, honey, don't you worry 'bout that." Karen gave her a wink and nudged her with an elbow.

Willa puffed out a watery laugh, shaking her head and looking over at Sean. He flashed her a shit-eating smirk that showed the gaps in his teeth before swaggering over and wrapping an arm around her. He planted a sloppy kiss at the top of Wilhelmina's head, causing her to let out a little squawk.

She shrank and then quickly turned and locked her arms around him tightly. "Watch out for Arthur, please?"

"'Course, love. Me 'n Missus Adler'll take care of it, don't you worry. I guess ol' King Art'ur's got somethin' of a round table after all, eh?"

She patted him on the shoulder gratefully before they all made their way back to the center of camp. As the four of them stepped between the tents they they saw Dutch striding towards the others gathered around.

"We have work to do, my friends! Let's go! We are gonna borrow a little money from old Uncle Sam, and be out of his hair once and for all!" Dutch threw his hands up as he made his way through Sadie and the men gathered up around the fire, turning around to face all of them briefly before heading for the horses.

Micah, Joe and Cleet sauntered up after their leader, Arthur trailing dubiously behind them. Sean leaned down to give Karen a quick parting kiss before they parted and Karen made her way to say her goodbyes to Abigail. Tilly ran off to the girls' wagon to start getting her own things thrown together.

Willa strode forward, grabbing Sadie's arm and quickly pulling her off to the side before she could follow the others. "Sadie! Come here a second."

Sadie furrowed her brows, stumbling slightly as she got pulled sideways. "Hello to you too!" She was about to whip out a sarcastic comment, but when she saw the serious look on Willa's face, it died in her throat. "What is it? Ain't you comin' with us?"

Willa shook her head, lowering her voice. "I need to stay with Sam. Listen Sadie, I'm takin' him and Jack and the girls down to that little shack I told you about in Bluewater Marsh. We're gonna stay there til this train business is done with. I just...I just wanted to ask you to keep an eye on Arthur and John for me. And when it's all done, you should come with them-"

"So, little birdie, you managed to weasel your way out of another job, did you?"

Both women looked over to see Micah hanging back just to the side, a thumb hooked into his belt. "Guess I ain't surprised. Still just a goddamn parasite, ain't you?"

Willa was about to spit out a very rude retort, but Dutch's reply from over by the horses cut her off before she was able to. "Why, didn't you hear, Micah? Arthur _insisted_ upon her not comin' along! She's got to stay behind and take care of the other _cowards_ who don't believe we're going to be _just fine!"_

John growled from where he sat atop Old Boy. "Jesus Christ, Dutch, they're women and children!"

Arthur came up beside Sadie and Wilhelmina, placing himself between them and Micah. "Go on, you goddamn snake. We ain't got time for your stirrin' shit up right now. _Ain't we got a train to rob?"_ he asked the other man snidely.

Micah sneered. "Oh, that we do, cowpoke. That we do!" He turned away from them, throwing a hand up dismissively as he made his way toward the horses.

Arthur grit his teeth, turning back to the two women. "Don't you listen to them, Willa. You get these folk packed up and you get 'em the hell outta here."

Sadie nodded. "I'll keep an eye on these boys for you, Willa. Don't you worry."

Wilhelmina nodded gratefully, turning her gaze to Arthur then. "I'll see you soon...?"

Arthur gave her as firm a nod as he could muster. With the way their luck had been, he wouldn't be surprised if the train was full of Pinkertons. But he couldn't stop to worry too much about that; as long as Willa and Abigail and the two kids were safe, that was all that mattered to him. He leaned down, grabbing up her fingers in his own and muttering a low "I love you."

Willa's mouth quirked and she suddenly looked like she wanted to cry again for a brief moment. She steeled herself for a second time that day, squeezing his fingers in response. "I love you too, cowboy..."

As Micah mounted up beside Dutch, he made eye contact with their leader. Dutch looked back at him, leaning over on The Count and lowering his voice conspiratorially. "Change of plans, son. Why don't you have Joe there split off and follow behind our other little...windfall? We don't wanna lose the chance at that cash in case somethin' does go wrong with the train..."

A crooked grin broke out across Micah's face as he straightened up in the saddle. "I'd like nothin' more, Dutch."

Arthur heard part of what the two men were saying as he strode over to Llamrei and untethered her from the hitching post. "What other windfall?"

Dutch straightened up, glancing over at Arthur. "Just another small deal we may have in the works, son. Nothin' for you to concern yourself with. Let's ride, gentlemen! Yah!" Dutch cracked The Count's reins and bucked his feet and suddenly the men and Sadie were all thundering off down the dirt trail, leaving a cloud of dust in their wake.

Willa puffed out a heavy breath and turned to scoop up her bag from the ground. "Alright, folks! We need to be gettin' on! Sam!? Abigail!?"

Grimshaw approached her then, one arm curled under her breasts as she smoked a cigarette with the other. The older woman looked tired, but she also looked pissed off.

Willa glanced over, deciding to venture forth with a figurative olive branch. "Miss Grimshaw. You're welcome to join us."

Grimshaw shook her head, suddenly seeming uncharacteristically confused. "I can't...I...I just don't understand what's happened to this gang..."

Willa glanced back as Abigail, Karen and Jack exited John's tent, carrying Abigail's supplies and making their way toward the remaining horses. She faced Grimshaw again. "I'm sorry. It just ain't safe anymore. It ain't been safe for a while now..."

Grimshaw smoked, looking down toward her boots. "I know, dear. I...thank you for the offer, I suppose. I'm sorry, I...I've treated you poorly. You and Arthur...you are in love, aren't you?"

Willa met Grimshaw's gaze when the older woman finally looked up again. "Yes."

Susan nodded, flicking ash off the end of the cigarette. "I'm happy for you. I shall do my best to make sure those boys make it back to you."

Willa chewed her lip. "Thank you..."

Susan nodded, putting a hand at Sam's back when he came up beside her with his things bundled up in his arms. She turned then and made her way over to her tent, rummaging through a trunk to retrieve her own travel bag. She brought it back over, opened it and held it in front of Sam so that he could put his things inside of it. "You all should go! Get to wherever you're goin' before you lose too much daylight!"

Karen made her way back from the horses, retrieving her flask from the pocket of her skirt. "Quit your squawkin' Grimshaw! We ain't all leavin'! Somebody's gotta stick around to make sure you don't go crazy with nobody left to scream at!"

Grimshaw scowled at Karen. "You girls wouldn't have known what to do with your damn selves if I hadn't been here to keep you all in line! But I...I appreciate it, Miss Jones..."

Willa scoffed and shook her head, switching the hand she held her bag with as it was starting to feel a little heavy. "You two be careful."

Willa took Sam's free hand and led him away toward the horses. They got their things strapped on to the animals' backs and mounted up. Abigail and Tilly took two of the extra draft horses, and Abigail made sure Jack was secure in front of her before they took off up the trail. They all waved at Susan and Karen one last time before they crested the rise and were lost to view from the camp.

The women followed the Kamassa River south, slowing when they had to ride through Butcher Creek. They kept to themselves, knowing the locals would most likely do the same. Willa was worried they'd encounter the Murfree Brood, and so she'd bid Tilly to snag up a couple of the camp rifles to stash on their horses just before they'd left. She was hoping they wouldn't need them, but it never hurt to be prepared.

Sam spoke up from behind her once they'd passed the unnerving little village full of bones and totems, the horses settling back into a steady canter. "I'm glad we're leavin'...does this mean we don't ever have to see Micah Bell again?"

Willa scoffed. "I sure hope so."

"'Cause...'cause last night I heard him talkin'. About you."

"Oh yeah? Well, Sam, I don't particularly care what Micah had to say about me..." Willa looked both ways up and down the road they'd intersected with, guiding their group to the right to continue south.

"But he was sayin' how him and Dutch was gonna turn you over to your brother. For money. For old Mr. Bronte's money."

Willa pursed her lips, glancing back over her shoulder. "Well, I don't know what he was talkin' about. My brother's gone, Sam. West, hopefully, though to be honest I don't care too much about where he went anymore. You probably just heard Micah wrong. He's probably just sour he didn't _get_ the chance to hand me over to Everett."

Sam's mouth quirked down into a grimace. He was pretty sure Micah hadn't been speaking in past tenses, but he'd been so anxious about getting caught snooping in Dutch's tent, maybe he _was_ misremembering. Either way, he supposed she was right in that it didn't matter much at this point. They were finally well on their way from Beaver Hollow, hopefully never to return.

It took almost three hours for them to get down to Bluewater Marsh; Willa had wanted to push harder, but with the kids in tow she knew they couldn't. None of them noticed the lone rider that trailed slowly after them, keeping a wary distance and riding somewhat hidden just off the road when the topography permitted it.

They hitched the horses around the backside of Black Belle's stilt shack just as a precaution, squelching through the mud with some of their supplies and their guns to make their way back to the wooden boardwalk out front.

Joe watched the women from way back in the trees by the road. After they'd entered the little cabin, he flicked away the cigarette he'd been slowly smoking, spit into the swamp grass at his horse's feet and pulled on the reins to turn the horse back around. He headed away north, urging the horse into a gallop to make better time. Micah had been specific about him meeting back up with them before nightfall.

Wilhelmina used the little key to unlock the front door, holding it open to usher the others inside first. She paused before entering, glancing back over her shoulder to survey the road to the north. When she didn't see anything, she shouldered her traveling bag and headed inside, pulling the door shut and locking it again behind her.

They settled in for a meager lunch, pulling out a few cans of vegetables and fruit and some salted meat Willa had stashed in her satchel. The women drank beer while the boys took turns passing Willa's canteen full of water back and forth. Every once in a while, Willa or Tilly would get up to peer out through the north-facing window of the shack. They were all fairly sure they were safe, but it never hurt to be cautious of bandits or even bounty hunters; who knew if they didn't still show up from time to time in search of old Black Belle? She'd directed the girls to prop the rifles they'd taken from camp against the wall, one next to the front door and the other next to the window, within easy reach in case anyone came knocking.

"When's papa coming back?" Jack looked up at Abigail, reaching up to rub at one of his eyes with a small fist. The boy had been yawning like crazy since they'd finally reached Bluewater; he was exhausted.

"He'll be with us soon, Jack. Him _and_ Uncle Arthur. You just keep your chin up, huh? I know it's a little scary right now, but you done real good so far, sweetie. Your papa's gonna be real proud of you."

Abigail got Jack set up on the bed over in the corner, coming back to sit with Sam and the girls once he'd finally settled in for a nap. She confided in them that it had been hell trying to get him to sleep for more than a few hours at a time after that incident with Micah those few nights past. She hoped now that they were well away from Beaver Hollow, the poor kid could finally rest a little easier.

Willa sighed, sitting against the wall of the shack and rolling up a cigarette for herself. She was trying not to worry about what was happening with the train. She kept catching herself wondering where they were, even though it had only been four or so hours since they'd parted ways with Arthur and the others. She found herself tapping her foot, chewing her bottom lip, drinking cup after cup of coffee after Tilly had put a pot on to brew. She went outside to smoke and pace back and forth. She had a veritable wellspring of anxious energy that could not be displaced.

Tilly joined her outside after a few minutes, crossing her arms over the rickety old railing of the shack's porch. "How you doin', Miss Willa?"

Willa switched from biting at a hangnail on one of her fingers to taking a drag from the cigarette, glancing over at the younger woman out of the corner of her eye. "I don't know, Tilly. Restless, I guess."

Tilly scoffed gently. "Beggin' your pardon, but that's pretty obvious. You wanna talk?"

Willa chewed her lip, gazed off northward again. "I don't know. I think...think I might go for a little walk. Do a little patrol or somethin', maybe. Will you and Abigail be okay?"

Tilly turned from the railing and gave her a soft look, nodding. "I can't think why not. Don't know who'd bother us out here. I can keep watch."

"Yeah?" Willa took one last drag from the butt of the cigarette before tossing it over the side of the porch. She hooked her thumbs into her gun belt, turning and surveying the roads once more. "I won't stay out long. Maybe just walk a big circle around, make sure things look okay."

Tilly nodded again and made her way back to the door, pausing before she opened it. "You go work off some of that energy, honey. Arthur'll be back before you know it. You'll see."

She offered Tilly a rather weak smile. "I know..." With a little wave, she descended the porch steps down to the boardwalk and made her way to the ground, starting for the back of the shack first to go and grab her shotgun from Tulip's saddle. Once equipped she made her way out into the marsh, taking her time picking through the muck and grasses to start tracing a perimeter around the stilt shack. She knew the place was surrounded by roads on all sides, figured it would help ease her mind to go do some light guard duty to reassure herself.

When she heard a gunshot reverberating through the still air of the swamps some time later was when she knew she'd made a huge mistake. Her head shot up from where she'd just been focused on sidestepping a nasty-looking snake, and she felt her whole body tensing up as a bunch of herons and egrets startled and took wing off to the northwest, somewhere between her and the shack. "No. no, no, no, _no_..."

Willa drug her feet through the mud, going as fast as she could to get back to more solid ground so that she could really run. It felt like it was taking an eternity, like how it felt in dreams when something big and shapeless and inevitably _hungry_ was chasing her, but the ground would always turn to quicksand and she could never escape. But when her feet finally hit harder stuff and didn't sink in six inches, she bolted off as fast as she could back toward the cabin, slinging the shotgun off her shoulder and cocking it as she ran to save time; somewhere in the back of her brain she knew how dangerous that was, but it wasn't exactly a coherent thought at the moment.

Wilhelmina raced just beside the road for a ways before tripping over a huge root that protruded out of the ground and almost blowing her own damn head off with the shotgun. She cursed, sucked in a shaky breath and planted a palm against the ground to lever herself back to her feet and keep going. She thought she saw horses out in front of the shack. And theirs were all still tethered out back. She darted to the left, back into the marsh, cutting over towards the back of the cabin to try and take whoever it was by surprise.

She pressed her back up against one of the stilts, sucking in a few deep, shaky breaths. A painful stitch had erupted in her side. She grit her teeth, trying to quiet herself so she could listen.

"C'mon, get the rest of 'em out of there! Milton's waitin' for us back in Van Horn, boys."

The sound of the front door crashing open and furniture being thrown around just above her caused Willa to jump. She cursed again, crouching, trying to see through the space under the shack. A lot of legs there on the other side, and...the bottom of Tilly's dress.

"Shit. Shitshitshit!" She hissed, held the shotgun in one hand and dropped to her knees, crawling down in underneath the shack. Shimmying through spiderwebs and bulrush, she stopped when the scene outside the front of the cabin finally came in to full view.

Pinkertons. One of them held Tilly at gunpoint. She heard more sounds of a fight coming from inside the shack, and then the sound of Jack screaming.

"The other one ain't here!"

Willa heard footsteps descending the boardwalk before Abigail's shrill cry cut through the stagnant air. "Let go of him! _Don't you touch my son you bastards!"_

"We'll let him go as soon as you come along nicely, Miss Roberts," replied one of the agents, pushing forward past a few other men who were circled where Tilly was being held. "And as soon as you tell us where it is Miss Wilhelmina Thorne ran off to. We know she was here with you. Ain't no use lyin'. You're both wanted for murder. And we ain't leavin' here until we got the both of you."

Abigail struggled against the man who led her down onto the grass; he had both of her arms pinned tightly behind her back. "You tell us where she went, we'll let the boys and the negro go. Ain't that a fair deal?"

Willa watched another man carry Jack down from the boardwalk, clutching the flailing boy tightly against his chest. Jack screamed and struggled, trying to scissor his arms and his legs to get free, but he was held strong.

Abigail let out a frustrated shriek and spit right in the agent's face who'd told her to give up Willa's location. "I don't know what the _fuck_ you're talkin' about! Let me go!"

The agent scowled, reaching up to wipe her spittle from his cheek. His face broke into a sneer and he reached up and backhanded her, hard.

Tilly started crying, then. Willa shimmied her way to the edge of the shadows under the house, brought the shotgun up to aim. She suddenly heard the grass crunch just to her right, and when she looked over she saw a pair of large feet standing just at the edge of one of the stilts before a sharp blow cracked against the side of her skull and everything went black.

"Found her." Joe slung the repeater he'd used to bash the woman in the head over his shoulder, leaning down to grab her by an arm and drag her out from under the rundown little cabin.

"Good. Bring her over." The Pinkerton who was in charge signaled to the others to let Tilly and the boys go. Tilly bit back a sob, rushing to Jack and Sam and curling her arms around them, wasting no time in turning them towards the back of the shack.

 _"Mama!"_ Jack screamed and reached for her over Tilly's shoulder, his face puffy and red and wet with tears and snot.

"Get Jack out of here, Tilly! _Please_!" Abigail struggled, letting her top half hang forward from the tight grip she was being held in. She didn't want to tell Tilly to go back to Beaver Hollow, or mention John or Arthur's names. She had to hope Tilly would go back and find the men on her own.

Tilly disappeared with the boys behind the cabin, and a few minutes later they were tearing off through the mud and up onto the road, Sam riding Tulip and Tilly clutching young Jack tight in front of her on one of those draft horses they'd taken.

Once they were gone, the senior agent turned to one of the men who'd been standing in the back of the small crowd, sauntering over to him. "Alright, Thorne. We got her. Where's the money?"

Everett cocked an eyebrow. "Cheeky fella, ain't you? You know, technically my friend over there found her, so I don't know if you're rightly deservin' of my money."

A smug look crossed the Pinkerton's face. He nodded to one of the other men to get Abigail loaded up onto one of the horses before steadying his gaze on Everett. "She's wanted, Thorne. Just like you. Just 'cause you've buddied up with that asshole Micah Bell so the two of you can lick Milton's bootheels together, you think you're somethin' special? I _could_ do this by the books and bring _all_ you assholes in."

Everett scoffed and rolled his eyes. "You do that, you ain't gettin' Dutch van der Linde and Arthur Morgan. There's a big picture here, pal. I'm helpin' you fellas out. All I ask is that you let _me_ deal with _her._ You fellas take the other one, they'll come runnin'. They'll run _right_ to you."

The agent stuck his hand out stubbornly.

Everett huffed out an exasperated sigh and turned to rummage in his horse's saddlebags for some of Bronte's cash to bribe the man with.


	36. Beaver Hollow - Things Fall Apart

Arthur stewed in furious silence the entire ride back to Beaver Hollow. Dutch and Micah's words kept repeating themselves over and over in his head. _I tried. He didn't make it._ _That patrol killed him._ How could he have been such a goddamn fool? He should have listened to Wilhelmina; he should have pulled Marston aside and told him they were getting the hell out of there with the women that morning. He should have done... _something._ What were they going to tell Abigail?

 _I tried._ _Had_ Dutch tried? Arthur had been so focused on getting into that armored car to get to that money, he hadn't even considered the possibility that Dutch wouldn't be able to scoop John up after he'd tumbled off the back of that train car. It sounded like Marston had been shot, but everything had happened so fast it was hard to tell. How had he been stupid enough to think they might finally have just a little bit of goddamn luck? Arthur just couldn't work it out, couldn't make himself believe it.

Dutch pulled up on The Count's reins just as they were getting ready to head up the trail into camp. A wagon was coming down towards them, Strauss's, it looked like. The rest of them all pulled their horses into a skidding stop as Tilly called out from the driver's bench, Karen wielding the reins while Jack sat between them. Two horses flanked one side of the wagon, Sean on Ennis while Sam rode Tulip just behind him.

"They came and took Willa and Abigail! I got the boys out of there, but they took them two!"

Arthur felt his chest tighten up like a vice was gripping it. He stiffened, tried to keep his voice from betraying the fresh fury welling up in him. "Who did!?"

"Agent Milton's men! They said they was takin' 'em to Van Horn! They're gonna be tried for murder!"

Dutch bowed his head, eyes widening just for a moment. Abigail? The _Pinkertons_ had taken _Abigail_? He'd certainly asked for _Joe_ to follow the girls, to let Everett Thorne know about his sister's location, but Dutch was taken completely off guard by this new development. He didn't even have time to think of the implications. "I...I am sorry to hear that!"

Micah leaned over slightly on Dutch's other side, resting one of his arms on Baylock's saddlehorn. "We gotta let 'em go...John's, uh...well..." He angled his head, casting a sidelong glance back at Jack for a moment. "Sorry, son. Without John, Abigail's just bait. And it ain't like the other one was good for all that much anyway, truth be told. We got a _bunch_ of money, Dutch. They're just girls, they won't _do_ nothin' to 'em."

Dutch listened to Micah, knitting his brows. He cast a quick glance back at Arthur. His lieutenant looked like he was about to leap off his horse and rip Micah's throat clean out.

"We need to keep ridin' on this one, Dutch. You know it, every man here knows it..."

Arthur couldn't hold his tongue any longer. " _Goddamnit_ Dutch, now I know you and Miss Thorne don't get along, but you really just gonna let that boy be made an _orphan_!?"

"It ain't like _that_!" Dutch interjected, angling his head back toward Arthur.

Arthur's eyes widened, his voice going up an octave in sheer disbelief. "Well, what _is_ it like!?" He looked back toward Javier and Bill, neither of whom was willing to make eye contact with him.

Micah leaned back in his saddle, pointing a finger at Arthur from behind Dutch's back. "Don't be a goddamn fool, Morgan! I think the rest of us can agree we wanna get out of this _alive!_ They're just a couple'a girls, Dutch..."

Dutch looked down again, but it didn't take him long to decide. His mouth slanted into a hard line as he glanced over and acknowledged Micah. "You're right."

" _Dutch_!" Arthur threw down the reins, sliding down off the saddle and almost catching his foot up in the stirrup in his haste to get over to Dutch, to stand in front of him and plead with him not to make this choice. Abandoning the women? They'd never operated like this before; _Dutch_ had never operated like this before.

Dutch looked down as Arthur came up beside him and shook his head. "It pains me to say it, Arthur...but he is right."

 _"Dutch!"_ Arthur splayed his hands at his sides. " _Not even for the goddamn boy!?"_

Dutch just shook his head, shook Arthur off like so much tired baggage and bucked his heels into The Count's sides. "C'mon, fellas!"

Arthur had to take a few lurching steps backwards when The Count took off from right beside him, hooves thundering. Dutch disappeared up around the wagon and every other man followed him, except for Sadie. She stayed behind, shaking her head with a bitter cast to her features.

He exhaled a few of those bull's breaths, his blood up, staring through the dust they'd kicked up in their wake. Suddenly Arthur let out a frustrated curse and kicked his boot into the dirt uselessly. " _Shit!_ Well that's that then, I guess!" He paused, settling his hands on his hips, shifting on his feet. He looked at the ground. "All them goddamn years..."

Sadie frowned. She could only imagine what he must have been working through at that moment. "We'll go get 'em, Arthur. You and me's all we need..."

Sean brought Ennis up closer to Arthur and Sadie. "Aye, I'll come along wit' yas, we can-"

"No." Arthur shook his head, fists flexing at his sides for a few moments. "No...you're gonna take this..." He raised his head decisively and walked around to Rei's backside, hefting down the heavy sack that had been strapped to the mare's hindquarters. It was full of the army's payroll money.

Arthur brought the sack over to the wagon and threw it into the back before turning to come up beside Karen. "All of you, take that money and you go wait at Copperhead Landing..."

"English, you sure about this? Miss Jones here can keep 'em safe..." Ennis shifted uncomfortably underneath Sean, causing him to sway in the saddle a bit. He looked on in uncharacteristic concern, making brief and sober eye contact with Karen. She nodded back at him, gaze hardened.

"Yes, I'm sure. Sean, you...you and Karen need to get them down there, and you wait for us."

Sean was no good in a fight, not really, and everyone knew it. Better for him to stay with Karen, who actually _was_ a good shot; and Tilly, who could be fierce as a pole cat when cornered, thanks to her bad old days running with the Foreman gang. Arthur would never be able to let the Irishman know how much it meant that he wanted to go with them, though. With the way such deep lines had been drawn in the sand now, it gave him some small comfort to know there were still those among them who hadn't forsaken the honor that bound them to their found family.

Sam urged Tulip forward a little awkwardly to come up beside Sean, narrowing his eyes at Arthur. "I'm comin' with you!"

Sean and Arthur both looked over at him. Arthur shook his head, waving a hand in the air dismissively as he turned back towards Rei. "No! You go wit' them, Sam. They'll keep you safe."

"I ain't leavin' Miss Willa! I shot that wolf, I can _help! Please,_ Arthur, let me help! Look, I'm a kid, ain't no one gonna notice me! What if...what if I can get in someplace you can't!?"

Arthur pulled himself up onto Llamrei's saddle, reaching up to wipe a hand across his mouth. Things were happening too fast. He had barely started to process what had happened to John, and now the women? _His_ woman? And was Jack going to lose both of his folks in a single day? "Jesus Christ, fine, kid! But you listen to me." He pointed a finger in Sam's direction, voice lowering dangerously. "You keep outta the way. You don't put yourself in danger. You know she wouldn't want that. And we don't know what we're gonna find out there."

Sadie narrowed her eyes, glancing back and forth between the two of them. "Arthur..."

Arthur cut a hand through the air, effectively silencing her. "Not now, Sadie! Kid can make his own goddamn decisions and we ain't got time to argue over it! Sean, you get these girls down to Copperhead Landing! Jack...we're gonna go get your mama." Arthur tugged on Rei's reins, urging her to turn around in the direction they'd ridden up from. "Mrs. Adler, Mr. Bellefleur! _Ride with me!"_

* * *

Wilhelmina's eyes fluttered open. Soft morning sunlight filtered in through the cream colored lace curtains that hung in the window at the far side of the room. She could see all the little motes of dust floating through it. Her mouth opened wide to let a yawn escape, and she snuggled up closer to the body in the bed beside her. "Mornin', Lettie," she mumbled into her sister's shoulder.

Lettie had her own bed over against the adjacent wall, but ever since their father had passed she had taken to crawling in with Wilhelmina most nights. They were twins, but Willa had been born first and Loretta had always been the frailer and meeker of the two. She cried often, and seemed to always be seeking her sister's attentions. She would never stand up to their brother, not like Wilhelmina did. Willa had a habit of pissing Everett off; she had become a nasty little sixteen year old, ready and willing to pick fights with him when she could.

"The stag is looking for the starlings..."

Willa furrowed her brows sleepily. "Lettie? You talkin' in your sleep again...?"

"He can't find them. He can't find them."

Willa recoiled slightly from where she'd been curled up against her sister's back, reached up and shook Lettie's shoulder gently. It almost sounded like her sister was crying. "Wake up."

Lettie's voice changed suddenly, assaulting her in a guttural hiss. _"_ You _need to wake up!"_

Willa blinked, angled herself up on her elbow and grabbed Loretta's shoulder firmly to roll her over. She was greeted with a swollen blue caricature of her sister's face; bulbous, milky, unseeing eyes protruded from their sockets, and her neck marked up with blackened and yellowed bruises from where she'd been strangled.

"You need to wake up. _You need to wake up! YOU NEED TO WAKE UP!"_ Her sister shrieked and lunged for her the way a snake might strike, blackened fingers curled into grasping claws.

And suddenly Willa was opening her eyes again, gasping for breath and blinking hard, trying to focus her vision; it was swimming with little dark floaties and she felt dizzy, felt like she was going to throw up. She looked around wildly, no clue as to where she was for a few moments. The whole right side of her head fucking _hurt_.

She was on the floor. On the floor of Black Belle's shack. She started trying to get to her feet before her brain caught up with her and she realized she couldn't move. The frustrated cry that escaped her at this realization sounded foreign in her ears, cracked and dry and far away. The Pinkertons. She'd been caught by the Pinkertons.

She heard creaking footsteps coming up the porch steps outside and she turned her head frantically, looking for anything there on the floor she could use to cut her bindings. She was on her belly though, felt like a goddamn fish that had been tossed absently on the beach instead of back into the water.

 _"Abigail!? Tilly!?"_ She angled her head, calling out for the other women in a whispered hiss. No one answered. She vaguely remembered hearing one of the agents say they'd let Tilly and the boys go in exchange for herself. She hoped that was what happened. If they could warn Arthur and the others, maybe it would give them all time to get away before the Pinkertons came down on them, too. But what had become of Abigail?

The front door of the shack opened, letting afternoon sunlight stream into the room. It blinded her for a second. She could see all those little dust motes floating around the silhouette that stood there before the door was being shut and her vision came back into focus.

"Hm. You're finally awake. This is a nice little hidey-hole you found yourself, Mina. I don't think those Pinkerton idiots ever would have found you if it hadn't been for Micah's creepy friend, there..."

Willa felt her chest tighten up. The urge to start hyperventilating was very real, and she had to swallow it down and force herself to keep breathing as normally as she could. "Where's Abigail?"

Everett took a few steps closer, apparently in no rush. He leaned down and grabbed her by one bicep, hauling her over onto her back roughly. "Pinkertons took her. Up to Van Horn. Gonna use her for bait to bring Dutch and the rest of 'em in. They been _real_ bad boys, Mina." Everett tsked, straightening himself up.

She grimaced, curling her legs up and trying to squirm backwards away from him. Her mind raced, trying to fit the pieces together. "Why?"

He cocked an eyebrow, reaching for the hunting knife he kept at his belt. "Why what?"

"I...I gave you a chance, Everett. I let you go so that we could _stop_ all of this! You had your goddamn money...what else do you _want_!?" She spat up at him, wriggling, struggling against the ropes that bound her.

He tilted his head, a look something like pity flashing across his battered features just for a moment. "That was your mistake, dear sister. You should have killed me. You think I'd really forget about all of this? You think I'd forget about what you did to _Cliff_?" He drew the knife from his belt, clutching the handle tightly in his fist. "You have _always_ been a goddamn hindrance. A goddamn _thorn_ in my _side_. And your new friends, there? Well, they're just about as useless as you are. Old Dutch van der Linde thinks he's so smart...well, he ain't nothin' but a bloodthirsty lunatic. He thinks I'm gonna be payin' him for bringin' me to you." Everett chuckled. "Micah 'n me are gonna make sure him and his boys get turned in for them bounties they got on their heads instead..."

* * *

Sadie and Arthur bid Sam to stay back, behind the buildings and closer to the woods on the western side of Van Horn. There was going to be violence, and though he'd fought and yelled and hissed at them on the ride in, he knew that they were right.

They'd used binoculars to check out what was going on in the little lakeside port before heading down in, and it was swarming with Pinkerton agents. They'd managed to catch a glimpse of Abigail being forced into the little trading post down on the docks at the north side of the town, so that was where they'd headed. They tried to be tactful about it, though. If they flew in guns blazing, the men in the trading post would immediately be alerted to their presence and that would probably be the end of Abigail and Wilhelmina.

Instead, they'd decided to ride back up into the woods and sneak into town from the north side. They left Sam with the horses and crept down along the beach, approaching the little post office there from the back. Arthur came up behind one man and drew a knife across his throat, letting him slip easily to the ground with nary a sound.

They used throwing knives to take out two more men further down on the docks, and then it seemed their way into the trading post was clear. Arthur wished they could have gone in under the cover of night, but it was what it was; they didn't have the time to waste waiting for better conditions. They did wait before skirting down toward the trading post, stopping to take cover behind crates and barrels that littered the dock in case any men on the shore happened to be looking.

They craned their necks out to check the rest of town before standing and quickly making their way to the building at the end of the dock. Sadie peered in through a window, glancing over at Arthur and whispering. "I see Abigail tied up in there. And two men."

Arthur's brow knitted as he rested his hand on the butt of his revolver. "Willa?"

Sadie shook her head and shrugged as they reached the door. "Gotta be in there somewhere, though."

They both brought their guns up as Arthur kicked in the door, hoping to take the Pinkertons by surprise. If she was dead already, he didn't know what he'd do. He had to shove the thought away. He'd shot both the men standing over Abigail before they'd even gotten a chance to bring their guns up to aim.

Sadie made her way over, holstering her revolver so that she could work at getting Abigail untied. Arthur swiveled his head, looking around for any sign of where they had Willa. "Abigail-"

Suddenly a door swung open near the back of the shop where Arthur had moved to and there stood Agent Milton with his own pistol drawn, two more men flanking him as he came through the doorway and forced Arthur to back up. "Not so fast, Mr. Morgan." He glanced around as one of his men moved forward with a gun drawn on Sadie, stopping her in her tracks before she had time to reach for her own revolver again.

Milton's eyes landed back on Arthur after he'd made a quick assessment. "Old pal Dutch didn't come with you to rescue the poor damsel? That's quite a shame. Though I suppose you make an adequate consolation prize..."

Arthur tentatively raised his hands, taking a step back towards Sadie and Abigail. "Where's the other woman you took, hm? You let them three go, you can have me. I won't put up no fuss."

Milton tilted his head slightly, motioning for the other man still behind him to flank Arthur. "Other woman? I only count two here, Mr. Morgan. And I won't be letting them go. I warned you. I offered you a deal. You should have taken it..."

Arthur sneered, not daring to make a move at the moment. He thought he could knock Milton's gun from his hand before he got the chance to fire, but with two other guns trained on them he didn't want to take the chance. "Okay. You wanna lie to me while you got me dead to rights, that's fine. But I'll tell you the truth. I'm a goddamn fool, Agent Milton..."

Milton tutted, nodding his head. "That's fairly obvious. Thankfully, not all of you boys have quite so many scruples when it comes to your fealty to old Dutch van der Linde. Micah Bell...we picked him up when you fellas came back from the Caribbean, and he's been a good boy ever since."

Arthur swallowed. The suspicion had been lingering in the back of his mind for some time, now. He distantly wondered if Micah had been spilling to them even before that. Blackwater, the bank job in St. Denis. Sure, they had kicked up a lot of noise over the course of the last year, but had more than just bad luck and bad circumstances been at work? _Oh, Dutch. You brought this down on all of us. And where the hell is Wilhelmina?_

"Yes." Milton grinned, stretching the pockmarks on his face rather grotesquely. "Micah Bell and some other small-time petty crook by the name of Everett Thorne. His name's been in our files for a few years now, but he came forward trying to make a deal with Bell and we figured two good little dogs bringing you bastards to heel might be better than one. Seems it paid off, at least partially."

Arthur's eyes narrowed. "Okay...okay. So you got me. Congratulations, Agent Milton..."

The sudden sound of a door slamming behind him jarred Milton out of his satisfied little monologue. He spun and let off a shot, hoping to catch whoever it was by surprise. In that time Arthur lowered his hand, still clutching his revolver. He yanked his sawed off shotgun from his side holster, shot the second man who'd looked over in surprise at the sound, and then shot Milton in the back.

Sadie elbowed the third agent in the face who'd had his gun trained on her, whipping her own revolver back out and shooting him before he could react to her attack. She immediately went back to working at getting Abigail untied. "Good shootin', Arthur!"

"Sure..." Arthur stepped over Milton with his guns trained towards the darkened back room of the shop.

"Don't shoot! It's me!" Sam's voice called out from the corner, and then he appeared meekly, hands half-raised. "I just thought...well I _couldn't_ just stay out in the woods and not do nothin'."

Arthur sucked in a big breath, drawing his guns back. He assessed the boy for a split second before holstering his weapons and turning to make his way back to Sadie and Abigail. "Abigail, what the hell happened? Where's Wilhelmina?"

Abigail took the hand he offered her and stood, rubbing at her wrists and glancing around at the bodies strewn across the floor. She looked up at Arthur, brows drawing down in concern. "It was't just the Pinkertons that came for us, Arthur. Her brother. And that _Joe._ They was both there with 'em. They never brought here here. I don't...I don't know where they took her!"

Arthur clenched his jaw. He looked down, pinched the bridge of his nose and tried to think. "Okay. Okay. First things first, we get the hell out of here. No way the rest of 'em didn't hear all them gunshots."

The other two women nodded. Sam beckoned them toward the door in the back room he'd come in through. "We can go this way. It's just a ladder out there, goes straight down to the water. Don't know why, but we can swim a ways back to the horses."

Arthur glanced up. Only now did he notice that the boy was soaking wet. He heard yelling coming from outside and turned back toward Sadie and Abigail. "You ladies feel like goin' for a swim?"

* * *

"You're such a goddamn hypocritical little bitch!" Everett leaned down and backhanded Wilhelmina, hard. He'd gotten her propped up in a chair in the middle of the little shack, apparently so that he could berate her to death before he got the chance to kill her.

Her head swiveled to the side with the impact. She cried out, and then scoffed, tilting her head back to look up at him. "Arthur's going to kill you. He's gonna ride up here any minute and blow your goddamn brains out."

Everett chuckled, shifting on his feet. He pointed a finger at her accusingly. " _That's_ why you're a goddamn hypocrite. You chase me around for years. _Years!_ And then take up with another outlaw!? He ain't no better than me, and you _still_ tried to kill me! Even if you didn't pull the trigger, you left me for dead. Spoutin' all that high and mighty bullshit about Loretta, about _family? About blood!?_ "

Wilhelmina shook her head. One of her eyes had started to swell shut from so many impacts of his hands on her. But if she could piss him off, he'd keep talking. And talking was better than killing. She just had to hope that Arthur would ride in soon. That they hadn't been caught by the Pinkertons. That John had gone to get Abigail.

She'd come up with a few ways she could try to knock her brother out long enough to get herself untied, but they all seemed hopelessly unrealistic. "He's a better man than you will ever be. And you don't get to talk about Loretta. It's obvious now you ain't ever viewed us as family. You're just...goddamn crazy. You're crazier than Dutch."

Everett tsked and shook his head, leaning in towards her. "That ain't very nice, Mina." He pointed again, jabbed his finger roughly into her collarbone. " _You're_ the goddamn crazy one. Always pushin' me. Always pretending like you weren't a _goddamn little monster!"_

"The only monsters are the ones we make, Everett. But you...you made yourself into what you are. You took momma dyin' and you turned it around on us. We were only _babies!_ You always hated us, always wanted us dead...you just never had the balls to do it yourself."

Everett scoffed, straightened up and grabbed his knife from where he'd set it down on the table just beside them. "We'll see about that tonight, won't we Mina?"

She looked on, letting her head tip back against the chair. She kept working at the ropes that were on her wrists.

"I'm gonna kill you. And then I'm gonna meet up with Micah, and we're gonna turn old Dutch and your precious Arthur in if they ain't rushed up to Van Horn already, get a whole bunch of money...and set out for new horizons. How's that sound?" He grinned at her, swung the knife down and embedded it into the wooden seat of the chair just between her thighs.

She stuttered out a gasping breath, and then took her chance. She pushed her body forward with all the strength she had in her and headbutted her brother.

* * *

When they were finally well away from Van Horn, Arthur pulled up on the reins and had them stop just outside of Butcher Creek. He nudged Rei into a turn so that he could face the others, Sadie coming to a stop just beside him and then Sam and Abigail on Tulip following up just behind.

"Arthur, what are we-?"

Arthur shook his head, looking at Sadie sternly. "Way I see it, we got two pretty clear choices here. We either head down to Bluewater and check the shack, or we go back to Beaver Hollow and check there. I'm willin' to bet if the Pinkertons knew how to find Abigail and the rest down there, then they'll know about camp by now, too. So...we split up."

Sadie opened her mouth to argue, but she had to stop herself. He was right. Those were the two first best places to start looking for Whilhelmina, and they didn't have time to risk sticking together.

"You said Tilly and Jack went to Copperhead Landing. Where's John?" Abigail looked back and forth between the two of them.

Arthur glanced at Sadie, his jaw clenching. "I don't, uh...I think..."

Abigail knit her brows, her lip trembling. "What...?"

Arthur looked down at Rei's withers before facing her again. "He got killed or he got captured..."

"No...no..."

"I'm really sorry Abigail...I...I was on the train and I didn't see it..."

Tulip shifted uncomfortably beneath Abigail and Sam, nickering. The boy leaned down to pat her neck awkwardly while Abigail buried her face into her hands behind him. "No..."

Arthur winced, slipping down off the saddle to make his way over to them. He stopped just beside Abigail, put a hand on her knee, reached up with the other to gently pull her hands away from her face. "Listen. Jack is safe. Sam and Mrs. Adler, they're gonna get you back to him. And, listen to me, Abigail. John...I want you to know this...he loved you. He loved you and Jack, he did. He wasn't perfect, but he did."

Sadie swallowed, looking down and away from where she sat atop Bob just to the side. Abigail had been the first person in camp to reach out to her when she was in the depths of her grief back at Horseshoe Overlook. So soon after losing Jake, she'd been despondent and contemplating suicide. Abigail was the one who came to talk with her, check in on her, tell her that some day things would start to get better. It hurt to see the young woman facing the same despair she had.

Arthur reached up with a thumb, gently brushed some of Abigail's tears away. "Now you gotta go get that boy." He looked over at Sadie then. "You take them down there. And then you go check Bluewater for me, please. I gotta...it's better if I go back to camp."

"Arthur...take this." Abigail sniffled, reaching in under the collar of her blouse to pull out a small key. "I don't need it anymore."

Arthur furrowed his brows. "What's that?"

"There's a chest in them caves. In the back, to the left. _Dutch's_ chest. With all our money. I know John told you I knew where it was."

He blinked, reached out to take the key from her.

Sam half-turned in the saddle, glanced back and forth between them. "Arthur...Mr. Morgan...you sure you wanna go back alone...?"

Arthur closed his fingers around the key and tucked it safely away into his pocket. "Yeah, kid. I'm sure. Now go on. All of you. Get outta here."

After he'd left them, Arthur rode north back to Beaver Hollow. He didn't know what he'd find there; Dutch dead, perhaps, Micah and his friends slipped away with the bounty money for turning him in. A hoard of Pinkertons picking over the remains of their camp, searching for clues. It made sense now, thinking back on the fact that Joe had not been with them for the train robbery. He'd been busy leading the Pinkertons to Bluewater Marsh instead.

Had Everett taken Wilhelmina and brought her here to regroup with Micah? Had he killed her already? Or was this a wild goose chase from start to finish? It was a big country, he could have taken his sister anywhere. Arthur's fists tightened around the reins. It felt hopeless. He'd tried to keep her safe. He thought he'd made the right decision. What a fool he'd been. What was it he'd said to John, all those months ago? _Just do one thing or another. Don't be two people at once._ It made his heart ache to think of all the pain his lingering loyalty to Dutch had caused her, and was it now the cause of her death as well? _Fool. Goddamn blind fool. You didn't deserve her, you never did._

"Hurry! We ain't got long..."

Arthur caught sight of Micah sauntering through the middle of camp as he rode in, apparently taking it upon himself to direct the others into getting things packed up. Joe and Cleet were stuffing boxes full of the ammunition from his wagon, and that made Arthur grit his teeth.

"Oh, we just got plenty of time, Micah...plenty of time for you tell me where Miss Thorne got to."

Micah looked up, sneering at Arthur as he dismounted. "Morgan, you're back. Hooray..."

Arthur glanced to Dutch, standing back by his tent, before he eyed Micah again, approaching slowly. "What did you do with her, you goddamn rat?"

Micah hooked his thumbs into his belt, squared himself up in front of Arthur. "Call it a backup plan, cowpoke. Dutch and me, well, we thought it was best to get the little lady out of the picture. Her brother owed us a favor, and we came to a little agreement. Didn't we, boss?"

Dutch took a few steps forward as Bill looked up from where he'd been packing his own things away off on the other side of the cave entrance. He straightened up slowly, looking back and forth between the other men as he let his hand hover near the handle of his gun.

Dutch put his hands out toward Arthur in something of a placating gesture. "It needed to be done, son. I never got the chance to say it to you, but it...it came to my attention that she was workin' against us. Micah suspected we had a rat, for a long time. And then he _saw_ her, talkin' to the Pinkertons..."

Arthur winced, looking down toward his boots for a second, unable to comprehend. "Dutch...?"

"It was for the best. We did you a favor, son. I knew you'd never believe it if I told you, the way she had you wrapped up around her finger as she did. I mean look at what happened when we brought her down to Colm's hangin'. The first thing she did as soon as she was out of our sight was run right for the law..."

Micah tutted and waved a hand in the air dismissively. "No use worryin' about it, cowpoke. Don't matter where she is, 'cause the little bitch is probably long dead by now. Her brother was awful eager to get his hands on her. And we needed her gone."

Arthur felt his heart bottoming out into his stomach. He'd feared it, but to hear it spoken so nonchalantly by the two of them felt like it drove a spike way down deep in his chest. To be betrayed like this hurt far worse than it had the other night when Dutch had walked away from him in that factory. To be betrayed for nothing, for a false accusation from _Micah?_

Arthur drew his gun to level it at the other man, sneered when Micah drew his own revolver a split second behind him. "Dutch, you goddamn fool. Hosea warned you. _I_ warned you. Not that you'll give a damn or even believe me, but I just had a little run-in wit' Agent Milton. We saved Abigail, not that you care too much about that, either. And before I shot him, he told me...Micah's the one that's been talkin'..."

Micah took a step closer. "That's a goddamn lie."

Dutch knit his brows, glancing back and forth as Joe and Cleet both drew their guns from their holsters, taking positions on either side of Micah.

"You let this goddamn snake whisper in your ear so long...you let him take the _only_ good thing I had in _years,_ Dutch...we was..." Arthur's mouth quirked. The gun trembled slightly in his hand. Why was he even still bothering trying to explain? "We was gonna get outta this. I was gonna go straight. And you let him take that. _You let him take that from me."_

Micah glanced quickly over at Dutch, keeping his gun trained on Arthur all the while. "Dutch, be practical now. You gonna believe that? You gonna believe what a _Pinkerton_ said? You heard him, he just said he was gonna run with her. She _changed_ him, Dutch. I bet they was _both_ talkin' to the Pinkertons about turnin' all of us in!"

Arthur drew back the hammer on his revolver. "Stop lyin' for once in your miserable goddamn life! He _told_ me! Didn't have no reason to lie, he thought he had me cornered! It was you, all along...you and Everett and these two clowns." He waved his revolver vaguely towards the two men that stood beside Micah. "You all deserve each other. Goddamn _rats!"_

"Dutch!"

They all glanced over to see John hobbling towards them from the trail, dirty and clutching his bloody shoulder with one hand.

"John!?" Bill crowed in surprise from behind them.

"You left me! You left me to die!"

Dutch's eyes widened minutely. He took a tentative step forward. "My boy...I didn't have a choice...John, I didn't-"

"You... _left me!"_ John stopped a few feet from Arthur, spitting at Dutch with all the venom of a once beloved son now spurned.

Arthur glanced over at John, gave him the tiniest of nods. A small silver lining was still one he'd take. At least he could still try to make sure the Marstons got out of all this. After that, he wasn't quite sure. The brief thought of putting his revolver to his own head passed through his mind. "All of you! You pick your side now, 'cause this is over."


	37. Beaver Hollow - Lights in the Darkness

Everett stumbled back in surprise when Wilhelmina smashed her forehead right into his nose, that crooked and busted appendage that had already taken so much abuse from her and her friends over the last several months. He cried out, lifting his hands to his face protectively.

She took the opportunity to reach down, hooking her wrists to either side of the knife that was still embedded into the chair between her thighs. She caught the rope against the blade and started sawing as quickly as she could.

"Ah, God! _Goddamnit!"_ Everett pulled one of his hands away to inspect it and, seeing blood there, he sneered and flicked his eyes back up to his sister. He saw what she was doing and seemed to forget his pain, losing what little semblance of composure he'd had. "Oh, no you don't you little-!"

He cut himself off with a grunt as he lunged at her, throwing all of his weight into it and smashing the bloody palm of his hand against her mouth to send her bodily down to the floor with a loud clatter. As she started to go backwards she opened wide and bit down hard on his hand, cringing at the taste of blood there, but unrelenting in her struggle to get the hell out of this nasty situation she'd found herself in.

Everett yelped again, wrenching his hand out from between her teeth. She saw stars for a second when her head smacked down against the floor, but thankfully the chair didn't break on the impact. Somehow she found the wherewithal to keep her hands close to the knife, and she wrenched the ropes against the blade again.

Willa was putting too much pressure against it though, and that trip down to the floor had only loosened the knife from where it was embedded. It popped out of the wood, flicked across her stomach and clattered down onto the ground beside her. She spread her elbows and pulled against the frayed ropes as hard as she could, clenching her teeth with the effort.

Everett flicked his hand, sending little patters of blood every which way. He spit out a bit of it that had trickled down from his nose before he zeroed in on her again, foregoing the knife to reach for the pistol at his hip.

Willa finally snapped the rope around her wrists just as he brought the gun up to aim, rolling her body to the side just as she heard the teeth-rattling pronouncement of the shot going off. It sounded too loud inside that little shack, made her eardrums ring on top of the massive headache she already had.

She'd scooped the knife up off the floor as she rolled, but she dropped it almost as soon as she had it when a flash of pain ripped through her thigh just above the knee.

* * *

Arthur and John rode hard west, away from Beaver Hollow. Things there had degraded much too fast; Javier running up to announce that the Pinkertons had arrived, Micah taking their collective surprise as an opportunity to shoot down Susan in cold blood when she'd pointed a shotgun at him, Dutch _still_ choosing to run off with him. They all had. Bill, Javier; they'd both run with Dutch and Micah. What a goddamn mess. What goddamn, unthinking _fools._ And him, the biggest fool of them all.

Arthur could hear them off behind now, letting off shots into the gloom of the evening and yelling and shouting about how he and John were the traitors. He could have laughed if they weren't also facing down Pinkertons coming at them hard from the roads out ahead. This thing had gone too far, and for too long.

He'd lost the only good thing to come into his life in a great number of years; Wilhelmina had become so much of _everything_ to him, and when she had finally broken those few nights ago after the attack on the oil refinery, that should have been the end of it. He knew he should have been more vehement about her staying away from the gang well before then; but he was selfish. He'd wanted to keep her near. The idea of having someone by his side who could also live the life he had lived had been some kind of idealized romance in his mind, even if their end goal had been to escape all of it.

He'd thought sending her down to Black Belle's shack would be good enough to keep her safe, but he'd had no idea how deep Micah's contempt actually ran; and knowing that Dutch had been in on it too, it made him feel sick. She'd been a ray of light against the darkness, given him hope that he could still find a way to start over. She'd had hope for a future with him, and what had he given her? He'd inadvertently delivered her right into her brother's hands, and she was dead, and there would be no starting over from that. He had nothing left, except making sure John could get away to take care of his family.

"There's Pinkertons everywhere! We gotta move!" John's voice snapped Arthur out of his spiraling thoughts, and he yanked hard on Llamrei's reins to follow John off the road and to the left, up a hill. There were Pinkertons blocking the road ahead of them, and they'd just left a mess of the government agents coming up from a road off behind, hoping they'd get tangled up with Dutch and the others in the heavy mist that was settling in alongside the quickening darkness.

Arthur ducked and hunched his shoulders, teeth clenching as he heard bullets whizz by to either side of him. Suddenly, Llamrei jerked and he was flying off the saddle as the horse spilled from beneath him. He hit the ground hard a few feet away, clutched his head in one hand and rolled over. An agonized groan ripped from his chest as he realized what had happened and he pushed himself to his feet, looking around frantically for John.

It looked as if Old Boy had gone down as well; just their luck that the Pinkertons would put their goddamn horses out from under the both of them. Arthur slung his rifle from his shoulder when he caught flashes of more gunfire from above them on the hill, helping John dispatch their immediate attackers with as much finesse as he could muster given their absolute goddamn bitch of a situation.

"C'mon, brother. We need to go!"

Arthur let his rifle dangle at his side and ran back to Llamrei, dropped to his knees beside her and pressed his free hand to her neck. "No...oh, no..." He dropped the gun to the ground, traced his fingers gently across the top of her head. Rei was breathing heavy, blood pooling beneath her from the bullets she'd taken. Her eyes were big and glassy, and he caught her looking up towards him. Arthur cursed and bit back a sudden sob, leaned in close to the animal that had become his closest companion since he'd lost poor Boadicea back in the Blackwater debacle. "Gimme a second..."

It was too much. This was too much. He talked low and sweet to the mare as her breath hitched in her large chest, distantly heard the sound of gunfire off behind them and John just a few yards away, yelling that they needed to go. Arthur ignored all of it for a few more moments, stroking Rei's head to let her know he was still there with her, whatever possible comfort that could be. He leaned in and whispered a husky 'thank you' just before the horse's body stilled.

"C'mon, Arthur! We need to go!"

Arthur grabbed the rifle and pushed himself to his feet, wiping his hand across his mouth as he made his way to John.

"We need to get out of here, Arthur!" John waved his revolver toward higher ground before wincing and pressing his forearm against the wound in his shoulder.

Arthur shook his head, glancing back behind them before locking his gaze on John. "No. John, you listen to me. _You_ need to go. I'll stay back, I'll try and hold the bastards off..."

John was about to turn and start running, expecting Arthur to be right there following up behind him, but he stumbled a step and had to do a double take. He whipped back around to face Arthur, an incredulous look crossing his scarred features. "What the hell are you talkin' about!? We ain't got time for this-!"

Arthur puffed himself up, feeling a stinging behind his eyes. Funny, he couldn't recall the last time he'd cried. Must have been years. Since Eliza and Isaac, maybe. "You're right, John. We ain't got time. Listen to me." Arthur reached out, put a firm hand on Marston's shoulder and cleared his throat against the lump that had suddenly formed there. "I got...I ain't got nothin' left, John. They...they sold Wilhelmina out to her brother. They sent her off to _die_ , John. _I_ sent her off to..." Arthur had to look away for a moment. He blinked hard, cleared his throat again. "So here's what's gonna happen...you're gonna go get your family. And you're gonna get them the hell outta here."

John knit his brows, taking a step back upon hearing about Willa. "I... _Christ._ What about the kid!?"

Arthur shook his head, looking up at him very soberly. "John, I...he weren't ever in this for me. Sam was stuck on Willa, you know that, and I...I already done wrong by one boy. I can't do that again. I just cannot...I cannot face him and tell him she's dead and it's all my goddamn fault..."

John looked off over Arthur's shoulder briefly as the gunfire kicked up again in the distance. "Arthur, it ain't your fault! You ain't gotta do this! Just come with me! We can both get out of here-"

Arthur effectively cut him off by pulling him into a firm hug. He patted John's back a few times. "Go to your family, John. _Please_." He pulled back and looked the younger man up and down, as if truly appraising all the years that had passed between them for the very first time. "It would mean a lot to me." He reached up and plucked the hat from his head, settled it firmly upon John's.

The corner of John's mouth twitched, and he looked at Arthur with a pained expression. "I ain't sure I like what I think you're plannin', Arthur."

"It don't matter, John! Will you just go!? Go and be a goddamn man!"

John took another half-step back, but he looked like he wanted to argue. Arthur knew that look well, and it almost made him choke up again. "If you...if you can find it in you to look out for Sam, even for just a little while..."

"I..." John closed his eyes for a few moments and huffed out a big sigh. "Of course. You're my brother, Arthur..."

"I know. Now get the hell out of here."

* * *

Sam and Sadie came up on Bluewater Marsh just as thunder began rumbling in the distance, somewhere far off to the west. After they'd dropped Abigail off with the others at Copperhead Landing he'd insisted she let him come along to help look for Wilhelmina. Sadie tried to argue, but the kid was surprisingly stalwart. She'd had to admit she'd been impressed with his uncanny timing back in Van Horn, and he knew where the little shack was located, besides. Willa had described it to Sadie way back when they'd been in Lakay, but she'd never seen it for herself.

"Up there. That light over in the swamp. That's it."

Sadie slowed Bob down to a trot as they approached, glancing around in the darkness and trying to listen for any sounds coming from the shack or otherwise. She could just make out the shape of a horse grazing around in the bulrush out front, and that set her on alert. "Well, sure looks like somebody's in there. Let's get a bit closer and see what's goin' on."

They heard a gunshot go off amid the normal night sounds of frogs and insects, and Sadie felt the hairs on the back of her neck and on her arms going up, as if she'd been zapped by a bit of electricity.

"Shit!" Sam scrambled down from Tulip and started running for the shack.

Sadie cursed and called after him in a harsh whisper. When he didn't slow and she saw him reaching for the hunting knife at his belt, she kicked Bob into a canter to catch up with him. She hopped off the saddle a few yards outside the shack, snatched her arm out to try and grab him by the back of his collar and missed by mere centimeters.

"Sam! Goddamnit, use your head!" Sadie hissed and fumbled for her revolver, half-running behind him.

He bounded up the little boardwalk and practically threw himself up onto the porch, reaching for the door and yanking it wide with absolutely no hesitation.

Everett spun around at the sound of footsteps outside and raised his gun as the door swung open, flicking the hammer to rotate another bullet into the chamber. His eyes went wide when he saw the child from months ago he'd been planning on selling to a mine foreman out west. "What the f-"

 ** _BANG_**

Everett blinked a few times. The gun fell from his hand. "-uck...?" He inhaled once and then his eyes rolled up toward the hole that had erupted in his forehead. He fell, hard.

Wilhelmina was still on her back on the floor. The gunshot they'd heard had been the one that sent a bullet tearing through the outside of her left thigh. She rolled her head to the side to look at Everett on the ground beside her, watched the blood starting to trickle down across his forehead to pool on the wooden boards. Her one eye that wasn't bruised and swollen went wide and she sucked in a big breath, finally gathering her wits about her and scrambling back away from him.

Sadie stood in the doorway just behind Sam, her gun still pointing at where Everett's head had been moments before. She quickly reholstered the revolver, stalking into the shack as Sam ran in and sidestepped Everett's corpse to look for a towel or something they could use to clean Willa up with. "Sure nice to finally meet your brother. Christ, Willa, you're bleedin' all over the place."

Wilhelmina sat herself up and pressed a palm firmly against the wet hole in her pants, clenched her teeth and offered Sadie a withering grimace. "Sadie, Everett. Everett, Sadie. Shit, that fuckin' hurts!" She chanced one more small glance at her brother, quickly double-checking that he was well and truly dead, and then nodded gratefully at Sam as he returned with an armful of hand towels from underneath the sink basin. She took one and pressed it to the wound, noticed she was trembling and tried to take another deep breath. "You two got some goddamn good timing, I'll tell you that."

"Yeah, seems to be somethin' of a talent of his." Sadie nodded in Sam's direction.

Sam's face was pale as he stared at the blood quickly soaking into the towel, hands kneading the ones he still held onto anxiously. "A-are...are you gonna be okay?"

Sadie ambled over and squatted beside Wilhelmina, looking at her with raised eyebrows, a silent question as she reached down toward Willa's leg.

Willa nodded at her, then glanced up at Sam. "I, uh...I think so. As long as the goddamn bullet isn't still in there." She hissed and couldn't quite stifle a cry as Sadie lifted her leg up, peering underneath to check for an exit wound. She saw it quick enough, let her leg rest back on the floor and glanced over to where Wilhelmina had been when they burst into the little shack. Sadie found the bullet easily enough, half-embedded in the wooden floorboards close to Everett's hip, tacky blood pooled all around it.

Willa grabbed Sadie's arm before the other woman could pull away from her. "Where's Arthur and John?"

The corner of Sadie's mouth quirked. She got busy turning around, reached down to start yanking Everett's suit jacket off. "John's, uh...well, he didn't make it." She furrowed her brows, putting her weight into rolling him over so she could get the jacket all the way off of him. "Arthur 'n me went to Van Horn to rescue Abigail from that son of a bitch, Milton..."

Sadie scooted herself back around with the jacket and retrieved her hunting knife, getting to work cutting a long strip from it. "And then we split up. He went back to camp, and sent me down here."

Willa paled. "Why the _hell_ did he go back to Beaver Hollow!?"

"It was the only other place we could think to check when we realized you wasn't in Van Horn." Sadie nodded briefly back toward the corpse behind them. "Guess he thought that lousy bastard might bring you back there to meet up with Micah." She got most of a few good lengths chopped off the coat and then tore the thin fabric the rest of the way. "Sam, come here. I want you to take her foot and lift it up."

Willa darted her eyes almost frantically as Sam moved in front of her and took a knee so that he could tentatively reach for her boot. "Ahh, John...ah, shit..." She absently bowed her head into her palm, smearing blood all over her forehead. "Ah, _fuck_!" She grit her teeth and yelped as he lifted her leg up straight into the air, felt tears stinging at her eyes.

"S-sorry!" Sam glanced back and forth between the two women, nervous sweat breaking out on his forehead.

Sadie gave him a nod to hold it still as she leaned forward to start wrapping the strips of cloth around the wounds. Sadie tied tight knots around her thigh, hoping to stifle some of the blood flow as Willa moaned and hollered and sweated beneath her.

Wilhelmina breathed heavy, trying not to just collapse back onto the floor. "We gotta get back to camp. We gotta find Arthur and...Jesus, Sadie, does Abigail know about John?"

Sadie nodded as she tied off the last knot, inspecting her handiwork before sitting back on her heels and sighing. "She does. Ain't sure what she's gonna do now. Feels bad, seein' another woman goin' through the same hell I been through. And with a little boy to take care of, besides..."

Sam gingerly lowered Willa's leg to the ground. "Arthur wasn't too happy. Dutch and Micah, they didn't wanna try to save you. He...he was just about beggin'."

Willa grimaced and slowly curled her leg up. "Can't say I'm much surprised..."

Sadie furrowed her brows and levered herself up onto her feet. "Think you can walk outta here? I don't wanna worry you or nothin', but...we heard from Milton that _Micah's_ the one been sellin' us all out these last few months. Him and your brother, apparently. If they're all back at Beaver Hollow, I ain't sure Arthur's gonna let that go over so smooth."

Willa cursed and reached out to take the arm Sadie offered her. The pain was tremendous, and the desire for a drink almost doubly so. But that was some news. Sadie was right. They had to get back there. "Then let's go. We gotta get to him before he gets the chance to do somethin' brave and stupid."

Sam and Sadie helped Wilhelmina up to her feet. She took one last, hard look at her brother before they led her out of Black Belle's shack and back out to the horses. She told Sam to take Everett's horse and then whistled for Tulip. Sadie had to help her up onto the saddle, and she almost fell, but she steeled herself and managed to bring the bad leg up and over in a few moments of almost blinding pain.

Sadie hooked her foot into one of Bob's stirrups and pulled herself up. "Think we should stop by Copperhead Landing first, just to make sure Arthur ain't there with the others already."

* * *

Arthur made his way back toward Beaver Hollow in the darkness, trying to skirt his way around as many of the small scattered groups of Pinkertons as he could. They were still lurking in the area surrounding the cave, and that made him think they hadn't been successful in catching Dutch or the others yet. The further he went, the more his indignation and anguish rose.

He felt like there was a hollow, rotting pit opened up inside him. The only thing he could let himself focus on was finding Micah and Dutch, exacting some kind of revenge. It may have been a fool's game, but wasn't that all he was, anyhow? He'd already made up his mind that he'd probably get gunned down attempting to make his way back to camp. It didn't matter anymore. The more Pinkertons he killed out here, that left fewer to keep chasing after John as he made his escape. Aside from that, making sure Dutch and Micah _couldn't_ get out of this mess like snakes disappearing into the grass was Arthur's only current goal.

 _"Dutch! Micah!_ Come and get me you bastards..." He crossed into the ravine just to the west of Beaver Hollow, put down a few more straggling Pinkertons on his way up through. He knew if they hadn't been taken yet, they'd try to go back for the money stashed in the cave. The greedy bastards. Greedy, heartless bastards. How could Dutch have done such a thing? Believing she was the rat? Making a deal with Everett? Handing her over for a bit of goddamn money? Snuffing her life away for it?

It seemed as if Dutch truly had become the man he'd told them never to be. Arthur's world had been flipped upside down. He'd felt more lost earlier on the way to Van Horn than he thought he'd ever felt in his life, even after his father had been executed and he'd been left an orphan all those years ago. At least he'd always known his father was a bastard. This final betrayal was like the final twist of a knife in his heart. If he wasn't so full up with vile fury, he'd feel dead already.

* * *

As Sadie, Willa and Sam rode across the marsh down towards the little peninsula known as Copperhead Landing, the lightning started. There was no rain to accompany it. The night was unusually warm for the end of September, and the booming claps of thunder signified quite a powerful dry storm moving in quickly from the west. They saw Strauss's old wagon parked down by the dilapidated little shack at the small landing, a group of people milling around it anxiously.

Sadie called out to the people as they approached so that they wouldn't get shot. "Hey! It's Sadie and Willa comin' in! Arthur back yet!?"

"Willa!? Jesus Christ, Arthur told me you was dead!" They were shocked to hear John's voice calling out to them from the group. He separated himself from Abigail and stalked over to meet them.

"John!? We thought _you_ were dead!" Willa caught sight of him in another brief flash of lightning. He had a hand clutched against his shoulder, his shotgun coat forsaken, vest and shirt hung half off his chest to reveal the reddened bandages that had been wound around his shoulder. He was also wearing Arthur's hat. "Where the hell is Arthur!?"

"Just about! He, uh...look, Micah told him you was dead, Willa. I think he...he said he was stayin' behind to hold off the Pinkertons, but I think he might've gone back to camp!"

"Pinkertons!? _Shit_!" Willa pulled Tulip's reins to get her to turn around. "I gotta get back there!"

"Hold on, hold on! I nabbed one of their horses that was wanderin' without a rider, I'll come with you-!"

Willa whipped her head around indignantly. "No, John! Stay with your goddamn family! I want you all to get the hell out of here! Scatter, before they come lookin' for the rest of you!" She looked over at Sadie then. "You too. You take Sam for me, please, get somewhere safe..."

Sadie tipped her head back and snorted. "You ain't gettin' rid of me that easy, hon. I'm comin' with you."

"Me too!" Sam tightened his grip on the reins of Everett's horse, pulling the stallion into a half-turn to face Willa stubbornly.

Sadie glanced back down at John before casting her gaze towards the others gathered around the wagon. "All of you, listen to her! Get outta here! Divvy up that train money and get lost! And keep yourselves safe!"

* * *

Beaver Hollow was lit up like a beacon in the night. All of the tents and wagons that had been left behind were ablaze, throwing plumes of smoke up above the treeline that could be seen whenever the lightning flashed. Arthur glanced briefly at his own munitions wagon as he picked his way up into the camp, his chest tightening at the thought of his lost mementos; his memories that he'd worked so hard over the years to hold onto. The little desert flower from back west he kept that had been his mother's favorite. Her portrait, the only one he had. His dog, Copper. The picture of him, Hosea and Dutch from much happier times. Willa's picture. All gone to dust, now.

He flexed his fists at his sides and drew his revolver, head swiveling to check for attackers. " _Dutch!? Micah!?"_ He sidestepped Dutch's burning tent, took a few steps into the cave. "Come out and face me!"

He could have gone in for the money, one last jab at the two of them. He was petty, but he wasn't _that_ petty. The money meant nothing to him now. Funny, how it had been all they thought about for years; acquiring the funds to make Dutch's pipe dreams a reality. They'd all gotten so caught up in it, they hadn't even questioned the slow transition into increasingly violent schemes and heists until they were too well and truly mired to turn back.

" _Dutch!? Micah!?"_ Arthur flexed his grip on the butt of the revolver, turned around to leave the cave. He got a few steps out into the open before thunder cracked again and a heavy weight knocked into him from behind, causing the gun to fly from his hand as he went crashing to the ground.

Arthur cried out in surprise when his face hit the dirt and quickly levered his arms underneath his chest to push himself back up.

Micah scrambled to his knees and yanked the hunting knife from the sheath at Arthur's hip, embedding it into the side of his abdomen.

Arthur heard an agonized cry escaping his own throat, arms going limp as the shock of the sudden pain ripped through him and he collapsed back to the ground. He heard Micah starting to laugh from above him and he managed to roll over, swinging one of his arms up and connecting his fist with the other man's face.

It was enough to send Micah rolling off him, and he took the opportunity to stagger to his feet, reaching back to wrap his fingers around the handle of the knife still stuck in him.

"Just cannot stay away, eh, Morgan!? You should'a left with your friend Marston! You really dumb enough to try and come back for our money!?" Micah showed him that ugly sneer of his, reached down and yanked his own knife from its sheath at his belt.

"Nah..." Arthur clenched his jaw and slid the knife out with a grunt of pain, immediately felt blood starting to soak into his shirt and through the waistband of his pants. "I just figured you and I had some unfinished business!"

Arthur lunged at Micah, swiped at him with the knife and just barely missed as the man sidestepped him. Micah took that opening to swing, and Arthur just barely had time to bring his arm up and block it, pushing Micah back and away. They separated a few feet, circling each other.

"You betrayed us!" Micah hissed at him, waving the knife back and forth.

"Goddamn lyin' son of a bitch! You _murderer!_ You _coward,_ you couldn't even come out and face me like a man!" Arthur winced, held the knife out at the ready, kept circling. "I should've known you'd slink up like a goddamn snake and _stab me in the back!"_ He lunged again, but Micah was fast. He brought his own arm up to block the swing and grappled with Arthur, shoved him back and away to start the little dance all over again.

Micah chuckled, twirled the knife. "You weak fool. I've waited a long time to kill you. It was real sweet though, seein' the look on your face when I told you that little bitch was _dead first_!" He darted forward and slashed at Arthur's face. Arthur ducked, brought his arm back up in a feint and went to stab at Micah with a lower blow. Micah brought his leg up to block it and kneed Arthur right where his wound was, causing him to wheeze and stumble backwards, dropping to one knee.

"You _rat!"_ Arthur stumbled to his feet and quickly sidestepped as Micah came for him again. He grabbed Micah by the lapels of his coat and used the force of his own lunge to swing him on past, turning and swiping after him with his knife. He shredded a long slit through the front of Micah's shirt, felt the knife biting into flesh before the other man could get far enough away.

Micah snarled, barreled forward again and feinted with his own knife so that Arthur would try to block it. When that happened, he swung his other fist hard into the wound in Arthur's side again, causing him to double over and cry out in anguish. "I'm a survivor! That's all there is, livin' and dyin'. And _you're_ dyin', cowpoke!"

Arthur grunted, remained doubled over, breathing heavy. His side was soaked, warm and tacky. It was getting harder for him to push through the pain radiating from the wound, especially after the blows he'd just taken. He didn't know how much blood he'd lost, but by the way his head was starting to swim he knew that he'd lost enough. He glanced up when he saw movement, caught Micah coming at him again just in time. He waited until the last possible moment before he swung upwards with the knife, cut a satisfying line right up across his face.

Micah cried out and stumbled back, lifted a hand to cradle his eye protectively. He glanced up at Arthur, then lowered his hand to see the blood there. "Oh, you got me pretty good, Morgan." He straightened up, sucked in a deep breath. "C'mon now... _let's end this!"_ Micah threw himself towards Arthur, barreled right into him and knocked him to to his back on the ground. He took his knife between both hands and swung down, but Arthur grabbed his forearms just in time, wrestled with him with all the strength he had left to keep that knife from plunging into his chest.

Neither of them saw Dutch walking up from the western edge of the camp, brows furrowed in something like concern as he watched the two men writhing like feral animals on the ground.

Arthur wrenched himself upward and bit down hard on Micah's wrist, causing him to drop the knife and yelp in pain. That gave Arthur just enough time to swing upwards, his fist connecting with the side of Micah's face he'd slashed open.

"Gah!" Micah rolled away from him.

"Stop this..." Dutch approached them slowly. "Just stop this. Both of you fools."

Micah grunted and scrambled to his feet. Arthur wheezed, pressing a hand weakly to his side though he knew it was probably pointless. He'd lost so much blood already, and he was starting to get lightheaded from the pain Micah's blows had inflicted on that spot.

"He's turned, Dutch." Micah waved down toward Arthur, cupping the side of his ravaged face with the other hand. "I told you, he's turned! He came back here to rob you!"

"No! Wh-What do I need that goddamn money for now?!" Arthur sat himself up, clenched his jaw against the white-hot flash of pain that shot up through him now that the adrenaline of the fight was wearing off. "I didn't turn, Micah. You did. Tell Dutch what you said to Agent Milton!"

"You shut your mouth," Micah hissed, waving the knife again threateningly. "You're talkin' nonsense!"

"You're the rat, Micah." Arthur cast his gaze toward Dutch, shook his head reproachfully when he saw nothing but a blank sort of stare. Confusion, maybe? Maybe he was finally realizing what all of his plans had led to. This, here, now. Sending Wilhelmina off to be killed for a few bucks knowing Arthur had loved her, choosing to believe she was the one ratting them out to their enemies. Choosing Micah over him, again and again. "Not Willa, Dutch. Him. _Him!"_

Micah sneered again, looked over at Dutch. He took a few steps closer, waved his hand back toward the cave. "C'mon, Dutch. Let's go get the money and get outta here!"

Dutch blinked. Finally he looked over at Micah. He knit his brows in a sort of soft way, shook his head very slightly and proceeded to take a few steps backwards. "It don't matter no more, Micah. I don't..." His words trailed off.

"Dutch!" Micah glanced down at Arthur briefly, but his gaze returned to their old leader as he turned his back and began to walk away from the both of them. " _Dutch!"_

Arthur let out a low, wheezy chuckle as he let himself drop back to the ground, looked upwards to see a fine streak of lightning shearing across the sky. "You lost, Micah. I may be dyin'...but at least I _had_ somethin' to live for. You...you always been dead inside..."

Micah's head whipped back around and he grimaced. There would be no turning Dutch in if he vanished off into the night, but at that moment, getting the money and getting somewhere to get his face patched up was more important. "Sure, cowpoke. Sure. You fuckin' vulture..." Micah stalked back over towards him, glared down hard at Dutch's former lieutenant with his one good eye. "You ain't gonna let yourself be made a goddamn martyr, 'cause there ain't nobody here to _remember_ you! You were never nothin' but a no-good, bloodthirsty outlaw, same as the rest of us." He kicked Arthur hard in his bad side, sneered when he cried out and curled up on himself, rolling over and rubbing his wound into the dirt in an attempt to shield it from any further abuse.

Arthur wheezed hard, little black floaties swimming across his vision. It was going black around the edges. He fought to stay conscious, tried to push Micah away as the other man stooped over him. He felt his hands being pushed down easily, very distantly felt Micah's hands rummaging in his pockets. Saw a blurred shape standing back up and walking away from him toward the big dark hole of the cave mouth. He rolled over onto his back once more, caught one last streak lighting up the sky above him before it all went completely black.

* * *

Willa pushed Sam and Sadie hard to get back up to Beaver Hollow. They had to fight their way through a few small groups of Pinkertons once they got up past Butcher Creek, but there were many more already dead that they passed on the way. It looked like a goddamn massacre had taken place up here in the hills, and Willa felt her stomach dropping further and further the closer they got to camp. Thunder continued to rumble above them, some bouts long and low and drawn out as the dry storm continued on its way across the sky.

Willa's leg had gone almost totally numb from hunching forward in the saddle, so every once in a while she'd reach down and rub it, often as close to the bullet wound as she could just to make the pain flair back up. She thought she might need to loosen the knots Sadie had tied with Everett's shredded jacket, but that was a distant priority, far below getting to Arthur.

They saw the light of the flames burning before they'd even crested the rise that led up and in, and this made her doubly anxious. "Jesus, they destroyed everything!" She pulled up on Tulip's reins and floundered down off the saddle, falling to her knees on the ground with a cry. Sadie and Sam both hurried to dismount and go to help her, but she was already picking herself back up by the time either of them got to her.

Sadie looked around, tried to see what was what by the light of the burning tents and wagons. "Shit. I see a body over here!" She ran away from them, over toward where Pearson's chuck wagon used to be, yanked her revolver out of its holster just to be prepared.

Willa clenched her jaw and started hobbling forward, one palm pressed firmly to her thigh. " _Arthur! Arthuur!"_ She screamed his name hoarsely, not exactly caring at that moment if anyone else might be around to hear her. She whipped her head around, fearing that Sadie had been silent too long even though it had only been a few moments. "Sadie!?"

Sadie came back towards them after Willa called for her, shook her head in a somber sort of way. "Grimshaw. been dead a while now, looks like."

" _Shit_..." Willa swiveled her head again, slowly making her way into the center of camp even though she was moving as fast as she could. As another bright bout of lightning lit up the sky, she caught sight of a body on the ground up ahead, close by the remains of Dutch's tent. "No. _No! Arthur!"_ She took up as much slack as she could with her good leg, hurried over to the man that lay unmoving on the ground. Of course she hadn't seen him before. He was still wearing all black, and it was dark back there by the mouth of the cave.

She fell to her knees beside him, touched his chest, his neck, his cheek, brushed his hair from his eyes. "Arthur..." Tears spilled from the corners of her eyes with little hesitation when he didn't respond. She winced and bit her lip, looked him up and down quickly. She looked down to where his hands were, saw them both curled toward one side. A sob escaped her as she bent forward, gently peeled his hands away from his abdomen one by one, noticing they were slick with blood. "Oh, Jesus..."

Sadie came up behind her, peering down over her shoulder for a moment. She clenched her jaw and cursed, sidestepping them to run over to the mouth of the cave and make sure nobody was about to jump them.

"Arthur!" Sam stared down in horror as he came up beside Willa. "Oh, shit! Oh, I didn't know this was gonna happen! I tried to stay with him! B-but he wanted to go alone! M-miss Willa, he wouldn't _let_ nobody come with him!" He slapped a hand over his own mouth to stop himself from rambling on in a fluster of jumbled apologies. He breathed hard through his nose, tears spilling their way down his cheeks.

Willa chewed her trembling lip, glanced over her shoulder for the briefest moment. "Sam, don't...it's...it ain't your fault. I just...oh, God!" Another sob wracked her and she hung her head, bent forward and dug her fingers into the shirt over his chest. "Please, don't do this! Don't do this to me! Arthur, please..."

Sadie strode back over to them, finally holstering her revolver. "Is he still warm? Is he breathin' at all?"

Willa's good eye went wide. She sniffled back some tears and flattened her palms against his chest, pressed in close and angled her head to see if she could hear any breath at all. She caught it, then, once she'd finally quieted herself. She could feel his heart beating beneath her hand. He was breathing, but it was slow. Painfully slow.

A low, cracked groan escaped from the bowels of his chest suddenly. She sucked in a sharp breath and straightened up, suddenly fumbling to shrug her duster off her shoulders. She had no idea how long he'd been there for, had no idea if the wound in his side had stopped bleeding or not, but based on how slick his hands were when she'd moved them away, she guessed not.

She balled some of the coat up in one of her hands and pressed it firmly into the side of him, jumping slightly and then gasping in a watery sort of way when he cried out louder, inching himself up off the ground slightly from the pain of the pressure on his wound. His arms went up bonelessly in an attempt to push away the intrusive cause of his discomfort, but he didn't get very far.

"Arthur. Arthur, it's okay. It's okay, you're gonna be okay." She kept one hand pressing the coat against him, leaned forward to brush her thumb across his forehead before smoothing her palm down his cheek. "I got you. I got you now, okay, and I ain't lettin' you go."

He winced and knit his brows before his eyes finally fluttered open and he gazed up at her in a way that would have looked lazy if he hadn't been so near unconsciousness. "Christ, I can't be in hell 'cause there's no way in it _you'd_ be there...but if I somehow made it to heaven...I gotta say...it's a pretty goddamn poor showin'..." He knit his brows again and frowned, reached up to trace his fingertips across the hard bruises marking up one side of her face.

Willa barked out a watery little laugh and shook her head. She couldn't help leaning down to kiss him. It caused another anguished groan to escape him as the weight of her hand pressing the duster to his side shifted and she pulled back, immediately apologetic. "Shit, I'm sorry. I'm sorry."

Arthur sucked his teeth and shook his head, tried to let her know it was no big deal, in the grand scheme of things. In the haze of his mind, he was trying to work out how she was there with him at all if he wasn't dead.

Sadie had settled one hand on Sam's shoulder, keeping him back from bombarding the two of them as they each shared a moment of realizing the other one was still alive. "Good to have you back with us, Arthur. But we need to get the hell outta here. Think you can ride?"

Arthur winced again and rolled his head, casting his gaze up at Sadie. "Uh...oh yeah, Sadie. Sure, I can ride. Soon as this goddamn hole in me stops bleedin'." He let out another small wheeze, and Willa wasn't sure if it was supposed to be a chuckle or him just struggling to get a full breath. "I lost Rei...thought I'd lost you, too..." He centered his gaze back on Wilhelmina, reached up again to brush some of the tears from her face. Ever the gentleman.

She let out a shaky breath and shook her head, felt tears streaming down again. "No...no, you ain't lost me. But...we gotta try and get you to a doctor, 'cause I sure as shit didn't ride all the way back up in here just to lose you. You think you can stand up?"

"Ain't nothin' for it but to try, I suppose..."

Willa angled herself as best she could underneath one of his arms, trying to keep that coat pressed to him at the same time. Sadie stooped and brought his other arm up, and they both very awkwardly helped Arthur to his feet. He started leaning heavily against Willa, and that put weight on her bad leg. He looked over, startled, as she grunted and stumbled beneath him.

"Willa, Jesus, why didn't you tell me you was hurt?"

"Wasn't exactly...my main concern until just now."

They all worked at readjusting themselves so that Arthur could give a bit more of his weight to Sadie while Sam ran over to retrieve the horses. Willa insisted, probably very selfishly, that Arthur ride behind her on Tulip. Sam and Sadie mounted up after getting the two of them settled and followed up on either side of them, and they picked their way carefully out of Beaver Hollow.

Sadie had her revolver in hand almost as soon as they'd left, promising them she'd be ready if they ran into any trouble. Arthur informed them that Micah and Dutch, and as far as he knew, Bill and Javier, had all escaped. That Micah was the one who'd nearly killed him. Willa clasped her hand tightly over the one he had wrapped around her waist, bid him through gritted teeth to not think about it anymore and just focus on keeping himself upright on the back of the horse. They headed east towards Annesburg and hoped to hell they could find somebody who could help them.


	38. Annesburg - And Beyond

When the little band of four arrived in Annesburg, things had begun to take a turn for the worse. Arthur had fallen silent about halfway through their ride, and Wilhelmina found herself giving his hand little squeezes, sometimes quite roughly, to make sure he was still conscious behind her. They were too scared to stop, and so they'd pushed on towards the little mining town, hoping against hope the Pinkertons hadn't overrun it already like they had Van Horn.

It was very early in the morning, and the sky was painted in brilliant shades of pink and gold over the Lannahechee. It was a bit hopeful, in a way, all those colors; warm and soft and somehow managing to brighten their spirits just a tad. They passed a hoard of miners making their way up the hill with heavy pickaxes and other tools slung over their shoulders, all on their way to start their day in the mine.

Willa stopped one of them, inquiring as to whether there was a doctor anywhere in town. She had to think there would be; mining was dangerous, and doctors who worked in towns built up around it were sure to have a continuous stream of business.

They were told that yes, in fact, there was a traveling doctor who'd been stopping in town every few weeks for the last couple of months, staying a few days at a time to treat folks and sell his supplies and tonics. The miner told them to make their way down into town, toward the laborers' houses; they'd see the doctor's wagon with no trouble.

Willa had felt a spark of hope at the fellow's words, but when they made their way down into town that hope increased exponentially. She saw the wagon and recognized its garish appearance easily; it was the wagon she and Arthur had repossessed for that poor man, Dr. Renaud, back in Rhodes.

She nudged Arthur gently. "Arthur, you seein' that? I think our luck's finally turned." She blinked. His bulk pressed heavy against her back. She absently noticed her leg was numb again. "Arthur?"

"Shit." Sadie hopped down off Bob as they came to a stop just behind the wagon. She ran over to Tulip, pressing her palms firmly into Arthur's unhurt side to keep him from sliding down off the horse.

Willa half-turned in the saddle, trying to see what was going on. Panic rose up in her. She was scared to try and get off the horse for fear of him falling off right on top of Sadie without her counterweight to help hold him.

"My God, what is goin' on out here?"

A familiar voice caused her to whip her head back around, and there stood Dr. Renaud in the doorway of one of the nicer houses that dotted the hillside right beside the main thoroughfare. He sported a natty suit similar to the one he'd been wearing when they'd met him back in Rhodes, not ostentatious enough to be pretentious, but it was quite obvious he was no miner or factory worker. She could see an older man and what looked to be a teenage girl hovering just inside the doorway behind him. They were talking to each other in quick little bursts in a language that definitely was not English.

"Doctor! Doctor Renaud, please! We really need some help!"

Sadie stayed put where she was, holding Arthur up, but she cocked an eyebrow in Willa's direction, wondering how it was she seemed to know the man.

The doctor turned toward the people in the doorway briefly. _"Eh...warte hier, bitte."_ He put a hand up motioning for them to stay before hopping down the porch steps and rushing over. As he got closer, his eyes got big with surprise when he recognized Wilhelmina. "My God, it's you!" He angled his head, studying what he could see of Arthur for just a moment. " _Both_ of you! Uh, here Miss, please, help me get him down!"

Dr. Renaud came up beside Sadie, lifting his arms to grab hold of Arthur and ease him down off the horse as gently as they both could. "What the hell happened to you folks?"

The people who presumably lived in the little house had multiplied, now. There were four of them stood out on the little porch, quipping back and forth at each other in German. The older man, obviously the husband and father, rushed down, disobeying the doctor's orders to come help them with the wounded people.

 _"Dieser mann half uns! Schafft ihn ins haus! Schnell, schnell!"_

Sadie's eyes went wide at the incomprehensible words coming out of the man's mouth, though she didn't have much time to think on it as Renaud slid Arthur the rest of the way down off the horse. She took part of his weight with a loud grunt, looking over at the doctor in some confusion. The German fellow immediately came around to unburden her, slipping himself in under Arthur's arm to help Renaud drag the man into the house.

The doctor spoke to the man in German again as they made their way carefully up the porch steps. Sam came up soon after to help Willa down off the saddle. She clenched her teeth and beckoned for Sadie to come back. She was scared she might inadvertently crush him if her leg gave out when she hit the ground.

"Willa, you know that fella?" Sadie got in underneath her arm to help her hobble up into the house behind the others. She glanced back, asked Sam to get their horses hitched up.

"Yeah. Arthur and I got him his wagon back from a bunch of them Lemoyne Raiders a few months ago. Fuckin' hillbillies..."

The rest of the man's family cleared a path for them as they made their way inside. They brought Arthur into a small side room that contained a bed and a small dresser and a washbasin, a few paintings hung up on the sparse walls. The doctor spoke a few more words to the German fellow and then he was off, giving his family a few directions before he went back outside to retrieve some things from Renaud's wagon.

The man's wife grabbed a chair from the small kitchen and dragged it into the bedroom, motioning for Sadie to help sit Wilhelmina down in it. They both nodded gratefully to her and Willa couldn't help a groan as she finally got the chance to sit down and stretch out without the ache of a saddle beneath her. Her leg wasn't numb anymore; the pain had flared back up with renewed vengeance just on the short trip between the road and the house.

"Thank you, Doctor Renaud. And please...please tell these folks thank you as well. I...I didn't expect to be brought right on into somebody's house like this..."

The doctor was already at work peeling Arthur's gear off to get at his shirt. Blood was soaking into the bed, and Willa felt a distant tinge of guilt at the fact that the linens and the mattress would probably be unsalvageable after this. "Don't thank me just yet. You folks are lucky though, I can tell you that. Andreas says your friend here saved him from a kidnapping a few months back..." Renaud squinted, nodding at the young girl in thanks as she hauled the washbasin away from the wall and over to the bed beside him. "He's awful pale. Lost a lot of blood. What happened to you all?"

Andreas came back in with an armload of bottles and bandages and tools and the doctor's attaché dangling from two fingers. He said something to his wife, and she quickly left the room on some other errand.

Willa didn't really want to give away who they actually were; she felt bad not divulging the truth to the doctor, but she decided she didn't have to outright lie. "We were ambushed...he's in a bad way, sir. Anything you can do for him, it...I...I, uh...don't know what I'd do if..."

Andreas' wife rushed back in with an armload of towels and a bottle of vodka clutched in one hand. The doctor muttered his thanks as he dropped Arthur's shirt to the floor. He set to soaking one of the towels to clean all the blood away so that he could actually see the wound.

The towel revealed a large, dark, ugly bruise that had formed around the puncture in his abdomen and the doctor sucked his teeth in a nervous way. "Well, he's still breathin', which is a good sign." He leaned in close, sniffed a few times. "And it doesn't smell too bad. You know, if you accidentally puncture an organ while you're butcherin' an animal, that awful smell it lets out? That works the same for people."

He leaned over to take his attaché from Andreas, setting it down on the floor and opening it up. "Which means - other than the fact it looks like somebody beat him half to death, besides - whoever it was stabbed him didn't hit nothin' vital." He took a syringe and filled it from a little glass bottle, sat up and flicked the tip of the needle with a practiced snap of his fingers. "I'm gonna give him a bit of morphine to help with the pain and keep him asleep while I get a better look at things and get him stitched up." He glanced back at Wilhelmina briefly. "Your leg. How bad is it?"

Willa shook her head, eyeing the syringe in the doctor's hand. She felt a sudden, nagging desire at the abrupt appearance of the drug. "Not so bad that you can't take care of him first. I can wait. Though, I'd be very much obliged for some of that booze there to tide me over in the meantime."

The doctor let out a very small chuckle and spoke to Andreas' wife for a moment. She brought the bottle over to Wilhelmina. Willa nodded her thanks, lifting it up in a small appreciative gesture before uncorking it and taking a big swig. She hoped it would be sufficient, because she couldn't let herself accept the morphine if he offered it to her. The very fact that it tempted her as much as it did made her want to be ill.

By this time Sam had come into the house, and he stood by Sadie in the corner of the room, craning his neck to try and see what Dr. Renaud was about. "Is Arthur gonna be okay...?"

Sadie's eyes flicked to him when he said Arthur's name, and she quickly cast her gaze towards Willa and then toward the doctor.

"Oh, I should think so, son. If we can stave off an infection settin' in. He'll need to rest up for a while." He was silent for a few moments, pausing in his work. "Arthur, is it...?"

Willa tried to act nonchalant. "Yes. I'm Wilhelmina. And back here is Sam and Sadie."

The doctor said nothing more. He fell into a concentrated silence as he worked, and the family left them in the little room to go back about whatever their business had been before. Willa took another couple slogs from the bottle, cringing and gritting her teeth at the way the vodka burned everything, even her sinuses. "Jesus...Sadie, what do you think? We could stay here for a few days, right? Maybe you could go down to the gunsmith's and see about rentin' us a few rooms?"

Sadie had been looking off out the small window towards the street and tapping her feet anxiously before Willa spoke up. She blew out a puff of smoke from the cigarette she had pinched between her lips, squinting over at the other woman. "Sure, I can do that. Ain't seen any P-...uh, any of them fellas that attacked us around town yet. Seems like it's safe enough for the time bein'."

Renaud glanced back over his shoulder. "He'll have to stay here. We shouldn't move him. All these bruises...he's got some massive trauma. He'll be in quite a lot of pain for a while yet."

Willa chewed her lip as Andreas made his way back into the room. "Look, we can't just steal these folks' house right out from under 'em. I mean, judgin' by the fact there's only one bed in this room, I'm guessin' it's his and his wife's. We can't-"

Renaud put a hand up to silence her, glanced over at the German fellow and started speaking to him. They exchanged some words and Andreas shook his head very firmly, cutting his hand through the air to signify he would not argue. All three of the others looked back and forth between them, waiting to hear what would happen.

Renaud glanced back at them before returning to his work. "He says you stay as long as you need to. No buts. His words, not mine."

Willa furrowed her brows. She looked up at the German gentleman. He had a kind face; graying hair, and a rather bushy gray mustache. He turned his gaze on her, said something else she couldn't understand. She didn't know what to say. "I...thank you, sir. Thank you."

Sadie and Sam left soon after to go let a room from the gunsmith. It was obvious all four of them would not be able to stay in the small house with their generous benefactors. They promised they'd be back around dinnertime to check in. In the meantime, none of them had gotten any sleep at all, and Sam was very eager to take a bath now that he'd been assured Arthur would be alright.

Once they were alone in the room, a heavy silence fell. Willa took another drink from the bottle and then forced herself to put it down on the ground.

"Arthur Morgan's his name...isn't it?"

Her eyes flicked up to the back of the doctor's head. She felt her guts twist in panic. "I..."

"I've seen his pictures up. St. Denis, Van Horn." Renaud straightened up some in his chair, pulling the thread taught that he'd been using to stitch up Arthur's wound. He tied it and snipped it off neatly with a small pair of scissors from his case before depositing them again and picking up the whole kit. He stood and dragged the chair across the floor so that he could sit beside her, setting the attaché down at his side once more. "For somethin' of a hero, he seems to have gotten himself into a fine mess of trouble."

Willa opened her mouth to make up some kind of an excuse, but she couldn't think of anything. Not a single goddamn thing. Her lip trembled. Every fear she'd managed to push to the back of her mind came flooding forward in a violent torrent. "D-doctor Renaud. Listen, please, he...he's been tryin' to get out of it, I swear. He ain't-"

Renaud put a hand up, gently shushing her when he saw tears glistening in her eyes. "Now I don't normally make a habit of aidin' and abettin' men wanted by the federal government...and I have heard a little about the van der Linde gang, no doubt...but your friend here, Mr. Morgan...the both of you done me a kindness I don't think I can rightly repay. And I think Andreas feels the same. Frankly, I'm still havin' some trouble workin' out how this fella that was so willin' to help me is also a notorious criminal. You don't need to worry about me turnin' him in. Okay?"

Willa couldn't help sniffling. She nodded and looked down at her lap, reaching up to wipe at her eyes with the heel of her palm. "Thank you..."

"Now, let me get a look at this leg of yours..."

She slid forward in the chair and allowed him, with some gnashing of teeth, to lift her leg so that it sat across his lap. She watched as he began undoing the knotted strips of fabric Sadie had used as a makeshift tourniquet. "Doctor Renaud...?"

"Hm?" He cocked an eyebrow, dropping one of the bloody strips to the floor and setting in on another.

"How...how is it you can speak with that fella so well?"

"I did a few years of my schoolin' in Germany - a university called Heidelberg. Picked up a good bit of the language. Andreas, the man of the house here, I met him a month or so back. He and his family, they're real decent folk. He hails from a real prosperous gold-mining venture back in Nuremberg. Guess he came out here with an eye on buyin' some stock in the Annesburg mines. Before that Leviticus Cornwall fella sunk his teeth into it, that is."

More strips of Everett's shredded jacket accumulated on the floor. She glanced up after watching one fall. "Well...guess that might be one more thing Arthur helped him out with. Uh, inadvertently, of course..."

* * *

Some time much later in the afternoon, Wilhelmina snapped awake. There were sounds in the room where there had been none for many hours. She'd fallen asleep hard in that chair after Renaud had examined her, stitched up her wounds and put a kind of splint on her leg just above the knee. Said something about keeping those torn muscles from straining and stretching too much.

"Dutch..."

She looked over, only vaguely aware that she could mostly see again out of her blackened eye. Arthur whimpered on the bed, brows knit, fingers twitching at his sides. "Mmmnn... _Dutch_..."

"Arthur..." Willa murmured, leaned forward with a groan. She'd pulled her chair up beside the bed to keep an eye on him, but her exhaustion had overtaken her. Before this, none of them had slept since two nights past.

He was covered in a sheen of sweat. The doctor had done a good job getting him cleaned up, though; most of the blood he'd been coated in was only a vague shadow on his skin now, smeared faintly in a few spots the bandages wound around his midsection didn't conceal.

He suddenly woke up with a gasp and then a hoarse groan, curling up on himself ever so slightly as the pain began to register in his addled brain. She scooted the chair closer with some effort and threaded her fingers into his, leaned forward again to brush some strands of hair from his forehead. "Shh. It's okay. It's okay, Arthur."

"Ah..." He winced, looking down at where their fingers were intertwined before following the curve of her arm upwards to meet her eyes. His gaze immediately softened, and he squeezed her hand in his own almost as if he needed the reassurance that she was really there. "We still alive...?"

She gave him a few small, quick nods, letting her hand rest on the top of his head. He was emitting heat like a furnace. "Still alive..."

He let out a gravelly, humorless chuckle at the prospect. "I'll be damned."

Willa swallowed thickly and tugged her hands away reluctantly to lean over to the small bedside table where one of their hosts had been kind enough to leave a pitcher of water and some glasses. She poured some water into one of them and handed it to him.

Arthur took it from her appreciatively, drained almost all of it in one go. She took it back and refilled it. He was slower drinking the second one. "Where are we...?"

"Annesburg. It's a...a German family. A man you rescued, a few months back?"

Arthur closed his eyes for a few moments. It came to him, eventually. "German...yeah. That was when we got run out of Valentine. Charles and I went scoutin' for a new spot to move to in Scarlett Meadows. Dewberry Creek was the place we was told...found his family there, hidin' from them goddamn raiders that took 'im. I, uh..." Arthur looked away from her, toward one of the paintings on the wall. He swallowed. "I wanted to leave 'em there. It was Charles that saved that fella, not me. I just happened to get stuck bein' the one to bring him back to his family."

Willa frowned. "Well...thank Charles, then. Whether it was your intention or not, you saved him, and he's lettin' us convalesce here til we're both feelin' better. Him and that Doctor Renaud. From Rhodes. You remember?"

He cocked an eyebrow and met her gaze once again. "That fella wit' the wagon?"

She nodded. "That's him. He's been real kind. Said he'd stick around town a few days longer than normal to keep an eye on you."

Arthur couldn't do much besides shake his head at their fortuitous good luck. He certainly felt like he was undeserving. He turned his head after a few moments, really looking her over. "What happened after the Pinkertons found you?" He found her hand again and squeezed it gently. "Where's your brother...?"

She told him what had happened back in Bluewater Marsh. His mouth thinned out into a hard line when she talked about Sam and Sadie busting in to rescue her just in time.

"That kid...Christ, he has got some balls on him. Did the same goddamn thing back in Van Horn..."

Willa couldn't help a sort of watery laugh. She couldn't tear her eyes away from him. He sounded like shit, but he was _alive_. And they had made it. And for now, they seemed to be safe. "Guess it's a good thing he followed me up to Beaver Hollow, huh? What about you? Sadie told me a bit about what happened in Van Horn, but..."

"Micah told me him and Dutch turned you over to your brother. Said you was most likely dead already, and I..." He fell silent for a few moments, brows knitting. He looked away from her again. "I don't know, I just...I told John to get the hell outta there, and then I figured I needed to go back and find them two after the Pinkertons came down on us. Either kill 'em, or get killed in the tryin' of it. Didn't matter much to me which happened..."

She swallowed thickly, squeezed his hand a little tighter.

"Micah snuck up on me. Ratted to the Pinkertons and then stabbed me in the back for real, just to...to drive the point home, I guess. _..that goddamn snake,"_ Arthur hissed, his voice lowering. "We all would've had a better chance if...if I'd just... _done_ somethin'..."

Willa shook her head. "No, Arthur. This ain't all on you. You had a whole camp full of people you was thinkin' about. But that camp full of people should have started thinkin' for _themselves_ a long time ago...I mean, lettin' Dutch make all them goddamn decisions, and just...just goin' along with all of it? I don't..." She found herself shaking her head once more, brows knitting in flustered confusion.

Arthur's jaw worked. He looked up toward the ceiling. "I told you...Dutch and Hosea was _everything_ to me. For a long time. And...and the others felt that too. It's what kept us all together so long. In the end, I knew Hosea'd lost his faith in Dutch. _I knew it._ And after that goddamn fiasco in Blackwater, I should've seen what was comin'. We all should've seen it. But Dutch just has this way of...twistin' folk around his finger. He...made me believe I was somethin' more than just a ruthless killer for twenty years..."

Wilhelmina looked at him, took his glass of water and set it on the table beside her. Then she leaned forward and took his other hand so that she held both of them. "Stop it, Arthur. You _are_ more than that."

His brows furrowed and he shook his head gently, still looking at the ceiling. "I'm just...some sad breed of monster. Cobbled together by my daddy and Dutch, both-"

" _Stop it._ Listen to me. Dutch _tried,_ he surely did, I ain't gonna deny that one bit. But Hosea never would've let that happen. He never _did_ let that happen. I know you made some pretty bad mistakes, but that don't mean I ain't just as guilty. And that don't mean we can't start makin' up for it now."

He tilted his head and looked at her again, slowly; almost uncertainly. "Wilhelmina, I would go to the ends of the earth to make up for what I done; truly, I would...but I don't think...I just don't know if nothin' I could do would ever be enough..."

"I spent so many goddamn years chasin' my brother. Killin' his men whenever I got the chance. And I remember...stealin' wedding bands from some of their fingers, never even givin' it a second thought. I never cared about whose husband I might've been killin'...or whose daddy...but then I met you."

He blinked. His mouth curled into a grimace. "I don't-"

"Let me finish, Arthur, please. I was a _ghost_ before I met you. And ghosts was all I had for company. You...you were _kind_ to me. You treated me like a person. I'd almost forgotten what that felt like. You seen how Sadie's been; vicious, almost _bloodthirsty,_ goin' after those O'Driscolls...that's just how I was. But _you_ helped me come outta that. Just like you been helpin' her come out of it. And no monster would do that." She squeezed his hands tightly in her own. "No monster would've done what you did for John and Abigail. No monster would've helped Doctor Renaud, or those two kids back in Rhodes, or any of the others you've met along the way. That ain't what you are, Arthur. And if you insist on thinkin' that you are, well...then that makes me one too."

Arthur inhaled a big breath, though it hurt to do so. He felt tears stinging at the corners of his eyes. Maybe they _were_ both monsters, in their own way. They were both certainly damaged. But all the broken pieces of him hurt a hell of a lot less when she was around, and that was what he focused on. It was what would carry him through this; all this pain and death and heartache at two fathers and a family all lost. He cast his gaze away from her, frowning and dropping her hand to reach down and dig his fingers into the pocket of his trousers.

He sniffled some when he felt the small loop of gold at his fingertips, hooked his pointer through it and drew it from his pocket. Not that he'd had a whole lot of time to think about it, but when he had, this sure as shit hadn't been how he'd pictured it going. To hell with it. "Willa, I...I know this ain't exactly ideal, but..." He winced, brought his hand back up to display the ring to her, pinching it between a thumb and forefinger. "Well...Mary sent this back to me. It was somethin' I gave to her, a long time ago. Now don't worry...I ain't gonna ask you to marry me with it. Even I know how foolish that would be."

Wilhelmina blinked, looking down at the little gold ring with the deep red stone set in it; garnet, or maybe a ruby. She felt her mouth drying up, wanted very badly to reach over for that glass of water, but couldn't quite bring herself to do so. What was he doing?

Arthur nodded very slightly, lifting up her other hand he still held. She let him turn it over so that it was palm up, watched as he pressed the ring there into the creases of her palm and gently pressed her fingers down over it.

"But I want you to take it. Sell it. Get us somethin' we can use to pay back these folk that's takin' care of us. And think of it as a promise. Because I _do_ wanna ask you, more than anything. But I want it to be _proper._ That's the least of what you deserve. But we got some work to do, first. Like gettin' you that little cottage on the lake...and that big bed, and them horses and some chickens, and-"

She sniffled and let out a watery laugh, shaking her head. She had to look away from him for a moment. He could be so sentimental, it nearly killed her in the small, rare moments when he allowed it to show. "Oh, Arthur..." Her eyes flicked back to him, and she knew they were swimming with tears, but she didn't bother trying to swipe them away. "I don't care about any of that. Of _course_ I'd marry you, if...if you'll have me...I ain't much for the thought of speakin' vows under the eyes of God or any of that nonsense, but...but I _love_ you. I don't care what we do, as long as we take that boy far away from here and...and as long as we're together."

Arthur's face softened right up, and he allowed a small smile to curl up one corner of his mouth. He lifted his hand and brushed his knuckles gently against the bruised up side of her face, felt his heart stutter when she took hold of it and angled her head to press her lips to the back of his hand. "I'll follow you anywhere, darlin'. We can take the kid wherever you wanna go. I will miss the desert, but...I promise I won't put up no fuss, even if you wanna go to Boston or New York or Paris, or...hell, even Tahiti."

She scoffed. "I sure as shit don't wanna go to Tahiti..."

They both looked over at the sound of voices outside the room. It was getting on into the evening now, and Willa had completely forgotten that Sadie said she'd bring Sam back around dinnertime to check in on them. The door opened a few moments later to reveal the two of them, along with Doctor Renaud.

Sam and Sadie both carried plates of food they'd brought over from the little hostel across the street. His eyes went wide. "Arthur, you're awake! Do you want some food? We got porkchops and potatoes and some gross green stuff and fresh-baked bread-"

"Them _gross green things_ is collard greens, you little heathen, and despite your insistence to the contrary, they's actually _good_ for you..." Sadie chuffed at the boy lightheartedly, though she couldn't help flashing the two of them a wolfish smile as she made her way into the room past him. She was pleased to see Arthur awake and in good spirits. She held the plate she carried out towards Wilhelmina, who chuckled and took it from her gratefully.

"Thank you...I didn't even realize how damn hungry I was..."

Arthur very gently sat himself up against the headboard of the bed with a few grunts of pain so that he could take the plate Sam offered him. He caught the boy's wrist briefly before he could pull his hand away. "Thank you, Sam. I never said it before, back in Van Horn, but...you're a damn brave kid. Neither of us would've gotten outta this mess if it wasn't for you."

Sam's cheeks flushed and he wrung his hands together after he got the one back from Arthur. "I...It was nothin', Arthur. I didn't do nothin' but bust a few doors open..."

"Well, bustin' them doors open saved my ass. And it sounds like it saved hers, too. You did good, kid."

Doctor Renaud stepped forward, looked up and down the length of Arthur, half sat up in the bed. "Well now, how are you feelin', sir? You sure look a might better than you did this mornin'."

Arthur gave the man an appreciative nod. "Oh, don't let my sprightly nature fool you, doc. It hurts somethin' fierce...but I imagine I'll be just fine thanks to you."

The doctor nodded, seemingly pleased. "I'd recommend an extended period of bed rest. You got real lucky. _Real_ lucky. No ridin' horses for at _least_ a week. I'd say longer, but if I had to guess, I'd say you ain't gonna listen to any of that. And don't pick fights with nobody." The doctor raised his eyebrows, giving Arthur a pointed look. "You got a fine lady here, sounds like she'd much prefer to keep you around. You follow my advice, you should be alright."

* * *

Arthur ended up staying in that bed for a solid week, though he was damn near going stir crazy by the end of it. At least when he'd been bedridden back at Clemens Point, he'd still had fresh air all around him; nothing but the canvas of his tent separating him from the outside world. That bedroom in Andreas' small rented house had one tiny window that only half-opened.

Willa had been up and about again long before he was; the splint on her leg helped with that, though she had to walk with a stiff, lurching gait. She took Mary's ring and sold it, like he'd asked her to; took in a nice little sum of thirty dollars for it, which they'd promptly tried to split between Andreas and the doctor in exchange for their generosity.

At Willa's insistence, Arthur let his beard grow out. It itched his face, but he had to admit she had a point that it would probably benefit them to have him looking more like a mountain man than one of Dutch van der Linde's most trusted former associates. They worried about how they were going to get anywhere; the stay in Annesburg had drained most of what little money they still had, and they had to figure out how they might book passage on a train for four people and three horses.

After Sam and Sadie had been out riding around one day, scouting for Pinkertons, they came back to Annesburg with some good news; Sam had been digging around in the saddlebags of Everett's horse while they'd been out on the road, thrown a couple of Everett's nice suits to the ground and found a pile of money stashed away underneath; Angelo Bronte's money. It had to have been at least a couple thousand dollars, and they had all clear forgotten about it with everything else that had happened.

With another burst of good luck, but Arthur still not quite in good enough health to do the traveling they intended to do, they came up with an alternate temporary plan. They paid Doctor Renaud again to clear out some space in the back of his wagon so that Arthur could ride inconspicuously and with as little stress to his wound as possible, and made their way out to O'Creagh's Run. Willa and Sam rode out ahead of them to speak with Hamish about the possibility of staying there with him for another week, maybe two.

The old vet obliged them with little hesitation, and they set up a cot for Arthur in one corner of his little lakeside cabin. They bid Doctor Renaud a fond farewell, set up their tents in the grass outside the house, and hunkered down. Sadie, Willa and Arthur spent long days discussing what the plan would be after this. When they weren't wracking their brains, they spent pleasant hours by the lake fishing with Hamish and enjoying his company; and the surly old vet was happier than he let on to have a full house for a few weeks. They couldn't express to Sadie how much her help meant to them, but extended every offer they could for her to travel with them. She thought it over, still unsure of what she would do with herself now that the O'Driscolls had been wiped out and the gang was no more.

She finally agreed to head north with them, at least for a while. It was getting well on into October, and winter would be settling in soon. Travel by train was still their best and fastest option; they thanked Hamish and wished him all the best, leaving him with some money to help tide him over for the winter. It felt like little recompense for all he had done, but it was the best they could do for him.

They booked passage on the newly completed northbound rail line from Emerald Station, switched trains in New York, and continued north to Vermont. Reading the newspapers, they were pleased to find that the Pinkertons were officially counting Arthur among the fallen of the gang. Dutch, Micah, Bill and Javier were still missing, seemingly disappeared somewhere out into the fabric of the country; whether together or not, nobody was sure and the four of them spent as little time as possible dwelling on it.

Willa swore if she saw Micah or Dutch again, she'd waste no time putting a bullet or several between their eyes, and that was an effective end to any further conversation about it. They ended up letting a few rooms in Burlington that winter, planned on traveling even further north once spring rolled around. It was best to keep a low profile and keep close to the border, just in case a quick escape was needed.

The van der Linde gang was only a myth this far east, thankfully, but Arthur still chose to forsake his surname. He introduced himself to folks as Arthur Mason, hoping the mild-mannered photographer he'd helped out those few times over the summer wouldn't mind so much that he'd done one last bit of thieving before quitting the life for good.

They road afield often that winter when the weather was good, searching out tracts of land that appealed to them. Sadie left them once the spring thaw came around; she'd grown restless feeling like a third wheel, couldn't settle in the northeast. It reminded her too much of the Grizzlies up there that winter, made her think too much of Jake. She left just as they were getting ready to put money down on a piece of land, promising she'd write as often as she could.

Things were finally starting to be good; _really_ good. They missed Sadie after she left, but clearing out the property they'd bought and getting to work building a house took up what little time they had. It was on a little lake, just like Wilhelmina had dreamed about. All through that spring and on into June, they heard those peeping frogs going like crazy. They'd hired some extra labor from the next town over since neither of them knew anything about building a house, and that was probably wise because they wanted to be living in it before the winter of 1900 rolled around.

The day their little cottage was finished, Arthur got down on one knee and proposed to her for real. He'd been doing some odd jobs on the side for folks, helping out where he could on farms and ranches and trying to earn an honest name for himself. He wanted to buy her a ring he'd _earned_ , and one day almost a year after they'd made their trek north, he'd ridden back down into Burlington with the cash he'd been squirreling away and bought her a simple gold band with a dark and lustrous green emerald set into it. She said yes, and he scooped her up in his arms and carried her on in through the door just like he'd said he wanted to. He even got to lay her down on their big, brand new bed, because Sam happened to be out a ways down the lakefront fishing for their dinner at the time. Things were happening; things were good. Things were better than either of them had ever possibly hoped they could be, and they were determined not to take a bit of it for granted.


	39. Epilogue Part I - Franklin

**Lake Carmi**

 **A few miles outside Franklin, Vermont**

 **May, 1907**

Wilhelmina furrowed her brows at the sound of the rooster crowing loudly outside the window. She groaned, rolling over in the bed only to be stopped mid-flop by the warm bulk of her husband's body. _My husband._ The thought _still_ surprised her sometimes, even though they'd been married a whole six years now.

Arthur snored away peacefully beside her, oblivious as usual to the cock's insistent and irritating squawking. She tried to ignore the sound, but she knew she wouldn't be able to get back to sleep once he'd started in out there. _Little bastard. He's gonna be dinner soon enough._

She turned her head, observing Arthur for a few moments in the morning light that filtered in through the curtains. He had some gray threading through his hair and his beard these days. She thought it looked awfully distinguished. She had a little too, even though she was only thirty-seven. She hated it on herself, but he said he liked it; joked that she was aging like a fine whiskey.

She leaned up on an elbow, bent over him and dragged her fingers across the stubble on his jaw, tilted his head so that she could give him a kiss. He smacked his lips, mumbled something in his sleep.

She snorted softly. "Time to get up, _Mr. Mason._.." She dragged her fingers down from his jaw, over the jut of his collarbone and through the course hair that covered his chest.

His brows knit, and then he was blinking away the sleep, looking over at her with those vibrant blue-green eyes of his. "Well, good mornin' to you, Missus Mason..." A faint smile curled up one side of his mouth. He turned on his side and wrapped a thick arm around her waist, pulling her against him.

Wilhelmina snorted again, kissed him once more. "You gotta get up and feed Dutch and the ladies. You hear him crowin' out there like the goddamn world's about to end? Sounds just like his namesake whenever he got a stick up his ass about _keepin' faith._ "

Arthur scoffed and shook his head. " _Still_ can't believe you named him that...but...eh, well, I'll get to it eventually..." He shrugged his shoulders lightly before burying his face into the crook of her neck, inhaling the musky scent of the sandalwood oil that lingered in her hair from the last bath she'd taken.

She squealed softly, hooked a leg over Arthur's waist to better accommodate his advances. She felt the hard line of him through his smallclothes as he pressed himself against her. An old, familiar need pooled within her and she nested her chin into his hair, humming against the top of his head.

He emitted a sleepy kind of grunt in return, pressed his lips to her shoulder and slid a hand up the curve of her leg, stopping to squeeze her ass appreciatively.

Willa reached down and cupped him with a hand, slowly smoothed her palm up over his morning erection, pressing it against his belly before she rolled over onto her other side and nestled herself back against him. She angled her head, gave him a mischievous side-eye.

Arthur got a face full of her thick hair, but he wasn't so concerned about it as his hand traveled back down and then smoothed up her hip, bunching her chemise up around her waist. He pulled her back against him when she started wiggling her backside provocatively, growling low and slow in her ear at the friction it caused.

Willa moaned softly, lifted her leg just a bit to accommodate him once more. He wasted no time in freeing himself from his long johns, taking his cock in his hand and guiding himself up between the cleft of her thighs.

She gasped quietly as he slid inside her. This was her favorite. Slow, in the mornings, before the work of the day began and it was just the two of them in their own little world. His fingers grabbed at the underside of her thigh, pressing insistently and helping keep that leg up so that he could work himself in and out at a maddeningly slow pace, pressed up right against her back.

One of her hands went up to flatten against the headboard. She could push up against it, using that counterweight to give him resistance. His eyes flicked up at the movement, momentarily watching the glint of the small emerald that decorated the band on her finger. Her hand smothered the face of a large barn owl carved into the wood and smoothed down to a fine texture; the headboard had been his anniversary present to her the year before. He groaned when she pushed herself back against him, matching his rhythm. "Goddamn..."

Arthur muttered into her hair, maneuvering slightly so that the arm he'd had curled underneath him could stretch up, his large hand pressing over hers. He hooked the other more firmly under her thigh, pulling her back roughly as his impatience got the better of him. He relished the idea of having her long and slow, but it almost never worked out that way. Even after all this time, once they were entangled in each other, he couldn't help getting lost in the feel of her, in the warmth of her, in the _love_ of her.

It still boggled his mind sometimes, having this woman here, in this house they'd built. Having this kind of life, having this kind of love. It was nothing he'd ever let himself hope for before she'd barreled into his line of sight. How they'd kept finding each other, until somehow it had turned into finding ways not to let each other go. He threaded his fingers between hers, pressed her hand into the headboard, half-listened to Dutch crowing outside and the squeaks of the bed rocking slightly beneath them.

"Oh, Arthur...mm...right there..." She had become breathy, reached her free hand down between her legs to rub herself in tight little circles.

"Right _there_?" he muttered just behind her ear, thrusting roughly as he said it. He smirked as she moaned loudly. They'd had the house to themselves for almost a year now, and though they both missed Sam, he found it endlessly enthralling how much louder they could allow themselves to be in their little empty nest. Sam had grown into a fine young man; decided he wanted to go off and join the navy, see the world. Pearson would be proud. But Arthur's thoughts did not linger on Simon Pearson.

He felt her leg twitch, had to angle his head away quickly when she threw her own head back and almost conked him on the nose. "Ah, _Jesus,_ Arthur _...!"_

He smirked again, finally released her hand to reach down and brush her hair from her shoulder, peppering his lips feverishly across the freckles that dotted her skin. She moaned and writhed against him, trembling as she came undone. He felt her muscles fluttering around him, closed his eyes as his hips stuttered against her. "Shit...you're always so good for me...makin' those pretty sounds, just for me..."

"Oh, you should hear the ones I make for the other men..." Willa pulled her hand from between her legs, reached back to dig her fingers into his hip, encouraging him.

He barked out a laugh that quickly dragged into a low groan as his climax overcame him, bunching his fingers into the hair at the back of her head and tugging on it with a gentle sort of abandonment, pulling her hips back a few more times before settling inside her, as deep as he could go, riding out that release as he puffed hot breath against the skin of her shoulder.

They stayed there for a few minutes, panting and basking in the glow of the morning. Her hand continued to massage his hip languidly, and he planted one more kiss just below her ear before he slid out of her and rolled onto his back.

Willa tucked her knees together and rolled over so that she was facing him, planted her palm on his chest and snuggled up under his arm. She closed her eyes, breathed out a contented sigh. "You goin' into town today...?"

Arthur drug the tips of his fingers lazily up and down the old scar on her bicep. "Probably should. Expect we've gotten another letter from Sam by now. Maybe one from Sadie, too. Might as well go pick up some feed and hay for them animals while I'm at it. You wanna come along?"

"Mm...it's been so warm lately, I gotta get started on plantin' the gardens today, I think. Take Percy to town though, would you? He could stand to work off some energy."

Arthur's chest rumbled pleasantly beneath her hand as he chuckled. "Sure. Any special requests from town, m'lady?"

"Hmm..." She hummed and thought to herself a minute. "Will you get me some more of that fancy coffee from Mexico if they have it?"

He nodded, angled his head down and planted a kiss on her forehead before making moves to get up and start the day.

Willa groaned and rolled over when he left her, sprawling out on her back like a starfish. "We _gotta_ get up?"

He scoffed as he stood, tucked himself back into his long johns and turned his head to offer her some mirthful side-eye from over one shoulder. "Well, you seemed pretty keen on it when you was fondlin' me just a few minutes ago."

"Can't help it," she tutted, but couldn't contain a hoarse little chuckle. She lunged up on her knees and grabbed his ass with both hands firmly, smiled into his back. "You just got a lot worth fondlin'."

He laughed, reaching down to swat her wandering hands away. She squealed when he turned on her, grabbed her up and slung her over his shoulder just as easy as he had that first day they'd met.

"Arthur!" She reached back, tried to pull down the hem of her short chemise. She wasn't quite sure who she was trying to be modest for, though; after a few seconds she gave up.

"Time to get up, ain't it?" He smiled, pleased with himself, patting her butt lightly as he carried her out of the bedroom and down the hall to the kitchen. He stopped short at the frenzied sounds of toenails scraping at the hardwood floor. Their two dogs came barreling at him from around the corner to the living room, indignant at the thought that their breakfast was imminent. " _Magnolia! Sherwood,"_ Arthur hollered with authority. "Sit your asses down!"

Sherwood, their black lab and Arthur's hunting dog, obeyed immediately; he plopped his butt down onto the floor and looked up at Arthur, tail wagging away. He tried to be imposing with the dogs sometimes, but they knew Arthur's true nature; he was a pushover and he spoiled them rotten.

Magnolia, their black and white border collie and wholehearted mama's girl, ignored him and trotted around behind Arthur's back instead, leaning up on her hind legs. She placed her front paws squarely on Arthur's rear and craned her neck up to start licking Willa's face. Willa snorted and squirmed over Arthur's shoulder, reaching down to ruffle Magnolia's silky ears. "Mornin', my Mags."

Arthur plopped Willa down on her feet, reached up to tuck her disheveled hair behind her ears. He traced one thumb gently across the small scar just to the side of her left eye, a souvenir from that last chaotic night in Bluewater Marsh. Sherwood weaseled his way in under Arthur's other hand, pushing his forehead into it for morning pets. Arthur obliged the lab idly. "Guess I'll go feed them little shit birds and get us some eggs for breakfast."

She snorted and padded over to the cook stove to get a fire lit down inside it, Magnolia following right on her heels. " _You're_ the one that wanted them chickens, Arthur."

He rolled his eyes in a good-natured sort of way, snatched a cigarette from a pack that sat on the countertop and a match from the little box just beside it. "But I'm a fool, Wilhelmina, you should've known better," he quipped back over his shoulder as he turned and headed for the door.

She snickered as she moved to their little pantry to get some salted bacon and a handful of small potatoes. "Take the dogs outside with you!"

She couldn't help watching him through the kitchen window when she came out from the pantry; he was just coming around from the shed with a bag of feed for the chickens, still in nothing but his long johns, that cigarette dangling from his lips, the dogs chasing each other off behind him. She could tell he was muttering something to himself out there, probably explaining to that damn rooster that its slaughter was imminent.

They ate a hearty breakfast at the kitchen table Arthur had built just that winter. After running north and letting things settle, he'd needed something other than his old journal and his guns to keep his hands busy; those things had reminded him too much of the gang and the bad old days for a long time. After helping an old Franklin local by the name of George Nathan out of a jam, he'd begun a sort of apprenticeship with the elderly craftsman; learned how to do finer work with wood than just what they'd done cobbling timber together for the frame of their house. Nathan had taught him, over the course of a few years, the basics of furniture-making; and then Arthur had taught himself how to chisel and sand marvelous embellishments into the things he'd crafted.

The headboard on their bed was an impressive display of his talents; a parliament of owls carved into the smooth mahogony, perched on the branches of pine trees with a flowing river and vast mountain peaks visible in the background. It was a piece he easily could have sold for more than fifty dollars, but instead it had been painstakingly crafted as his five year anniversary present to her.

The craftsmanship of the furniture he produced was still crude - he'd only been doing it for a few years now - but he'd thrown all of himself into every single carving. It felt more satisfying than drawing, in a way, having a three-dimensional element that he could touch and feel. It was easy for him to get lost in the process of carving and sanding, but with enough time the old yearning had come back. It was actually the drawing he missed much more than the writing; since he'd been living honestly, he found there wasn't much need to try and make sense of things by getting his thoughts all out onto a page. Things just made sense on their own now that he didn't feel like he was being pulled in twenty different directions at once anymore.

He'd buried the old journal in a crate somewhere to be forgotten; figured it was fitting to get a fresh start in a clean, new book. Its pages now contained a healthy mixture of wild plants and animals, landscapes, places of interest, furniture and carving designs, and of course, Willa and their various pets.

They had expanded on the house quickly in the first few years after they'd finished it; added a barn and a workshop, filled the spaces on the property with goats and chickens and gardens. The barn had become a small stable, which was where most of their income was generated. They boarded horses there, and were looking to start breeding soon with Willa's new horse.

Tulip had passed in the autumn of 1905 at the ripe old age of twenty-six, and Wilhelmina had been devastated; she'd refused to even look at another horse for near on six months, until poor old George Nathan up and kicked the bucket too, of pneumonia. Arthur had become quite good friends with the old woodworker, and was surprised to find that the man had left him all of his old woodworking tools _and_ his prized colt in his will. And so, rather against her _own_ will, Arthur's dear wife had found herself in possession of a young and bullheaded silver Turkoman stallion.

Arthur's dark bay Andalusian mare, Aster, he'd purchased while they were still staying in Burlington that first winter; she was a good girl and she worked hard, but Arthur had to remind Willa that they could not run their little farm and the stable with only one horse between the two of them. They _needed_ another one, and beyond that, _she_ needed another one.

Percy had not taken to either of them, or Aster, at first. He'd run off multiple times, and they'd had to buckle down and put tall fencing up around one of the fields so that he couldn't keep escaping. He'd acted like a lone wolf, prowling along the edge of the fence, nickering at them indignantly whenever they approached him. It was Magnolia who finally broke the horse's wary standoffishness; Arthur and Wilhelmina had gone outside one night when they couldn't find the dog only to discover the collie snuggled up with Percy out in the field, the both of them sound asleep.

They never knew if it was her natural inclinations as a herding dog or just her sunny personality, but whenever either of them went out to work with the young stallion, as long as Mags was with them, he seemed to behave. He still had some trouble with Aster, but overall his temperament had improved greatly over the course of the last year.

Arthur led the horse out of the barn with a little help from a handful of sugar cubes, took him over to their wagon to get him hitched up beside Aster. Percy snorted and stamped his hooves into the ground for a few minutes; he didn't like the wagon harness, but that was just one more thing he was going to have to get used to. Arthur plied him with a sugar cube and gave him a few good pats on the neck before turning away, looking around for where Willa had gotten off to.

A bark drew him down towards the edge of the lake, and soon he saw a head full of black hair bobbing in the water out there. He also saw the black chemise she'd been wearing discarded on the shore. He planted his hands on his hips and shook his head, watched his wife laugh and rub the water out of her eyes as Mags barreled into the water to swim out to her. It was unseasonably warm for May in northern Vermont, but he was constantly astounded at the way she'd just hop in for a swim whenever the mood seemed to strike her; Willa and the dog both, now that he thought about it.

She caught sight of him and smiled, wading closer to the shore so that she could stand up. "Come in with me, Arthur! The lake is gorgeous this morning!"

He sucked in a little breath as her top half started emerging from the water, dripping wet like some kind of Greek goddess being birthed from the sea. She was still the prettiest thing he thought he'd ever seen. He couldn't help puffing out a little laugh, though.

"Mornin' there, Missus Mason!"

Willa gasped, her hands flying up to cover herself. She plopped down into the water and turned to see their neighbor from down the lake leisurely paddling by in his canoe. He lifted a hand to wave to her, glanced over to see Arthur wheezing laughter back on the shore. "And good mornin' to you, Arthur!"

"Mornin', Mr. Jefferies," Arthur managed through a shit-eating smirk, flicking the man a little two-fingered salute. Willa stammered out a good morning through her own bit of embarrassed laughter, staying down under the cover of the water until he was well up the lake a ways. Even Magnolia offered the man an affable bark.

She smacked Arthur when she finally got up onto the shore and pulled her chemise back on, the fabric sticking to her skin in a way that he found to be wildly attractive. He eyed her up and down, a smug smile on his face as he crossed his arms over his chest.

"Why didn't you tell me he was out there!?"

Arthur just snorted and shook his head, splaying out a hand. "Maybe I'm just gettin' generous in my old age, darlin'. Poor fella's a widower; probably added a good ten years onto his life, gettin' to see your backside..."

She scoffed and smacked him again, and he just chuckled some more. "You are turnin' into a dirty old man, Arthur. My backside's only for _you_ to be lookin' at."

"Well, since you was out there paddlin' about naked as the day you was born, I honestly thought you wasn't too concerned wit' who might see you."

"Well, I..." She huffed out a sigh, acquiescing to his point. "Normally there ain't nobody else out here except you."

He hummed, taking a step towards her to place his hands at her waist. He could feel the moisture that had seeped through the fabric of her chemise and caused it to cling to her in such an alluring way. "My apologies, sweetheart. It was a _little_ funny, though."

"Yeah, yeah..." She leaned up on her tiptoes and planted a kiss on his scarred chin.

Arthur grunted agreeably and was about to angle his head down so that he could kiss her proper on the lips, but then he caught movement out of the corner of his eye. Magnolia was barreling up out of the water towards them, wet fur hanging in tendrils from her body. He knew what that meant. "Oh, no-"

He took a faltering step back, his hands flying up from Wilhelmina's waist. Her eyes went wide in confusion for just a moment, and then she was practically doubling over laughing when the dog skidded to a stop right beside them and began shaking all the water out of her fur.

"Magnolia, _goddamnit!"_ Arthur took a few more steps back, raising a hand to shield his face from the spray of water the dog was putting off.

"Oh, shit," Willa croaked through her chuckles and looked down at the collie. Mags shook a few more times and then stopped to look back and forth between them, tongue hanging as she panted goodnaturedly. Willa shook her head and patted Arthur on the arm before brushing past him, knowing the dog would follow. "Don't worry, sweetheart, you'll dry off on the ride to town."

" _Yeah, yeah..."_ Arthur parroted her previous retort, frowning down at his soggy clothes before falling into step behind her and the dog. "Where'd Sherwood get off to, anyway? He ain't gonna come up behind me and finish the job of soakin' my ass, too, is he?"

She snorted and shook her head as she reached up to wring the water out of her own hair, heading back towards the house. "You know him, lazy little bastard, I'm sure he curled right up and went back to sleep somewhere after he got his breakfast in him."

She stopped and turned on her heel as they approached the door to the house, tilting her head slightly. The little droplets of water that still lingered on her skin glistened in the light of the sun. "You headin' out?"

Arthur nodded, reached up to rub the back of his neck absently. "Guess I should. I'll be back in a few hours. You best have _all_ them vegetables planted when I get home, woman."

" _And_ all the fields'll be tilled and the house'll be cleaned and I'll just go ahead and finish up all those half-done projects you got goin' out in the workshop. Oh, and I'll chop all the wood for this winter, too." She smirked up at him smugly.

Arthur scoffed and shook his head. He leaned down and pressed his lips to her forehead before taking a few steps backwards. "I'll see you later, darlin'."

Her smile turned tender then, and she gave him a nod, wiggling her fingers at him before turning and going back into the house to put on some real clothes, Magnolia still following dutifully behind her. Arthur watched Wilhelmina's retreating backside for a moment before he turned and headed for the wagon.

It was only a forty-five minute ride into town, and Arthur was able to get about his business with little in the way of hassle. He gave the general store clerk a list of the things he needed, and then headed across the street to the postal office to check their mail while he waited for the goods to be readied.

Arthur was surprised when he was handed three envelopes. Usually it was only one, or sometimes two; Sam or Sadie, though her letters had become far more infrequent in the last few years. Apparently, she'd made her way out to New Austin and picked up bounty hunting at some point along the way. He and Wilhelmina both worried about her doing bounty work on her own; it was dangerous business, and they'd said as much in their letters, but not much deterred Sadie Adler when she had her mind set to something. Every time they received a new communication from her, they both breathed a little easier.

Arthur quickly flipped through the enevelopes; just as he'd thought, one from her and the other from Sam down in Annapolis. The third...from someone named Jim Milton. Arthur paused there in front of the postal window, his brows drawing down. _Jim Milton?_ He wracked his brain for a moment, looked up and nodded an absent thank you to the clerk before walking away and out the door. That name drew his eyes back down to the envelope in his hands.

He walked around the front of the building and rummaged in his satchel for a cigarette. Taking a seat in the grass, he leaned back against the clapboards and struck a match off his boot to light the cigarette before waving it out and tossing it away. He took a drag, squinted down at the plain white envelope through the smoke, turning it back and forth in his hand. After another few moments of uncertainty, he slid a finger in under where it was folded, ripping the seal. He reached in, pulled out a few folded sheets of paper, smoothed them out over his knee, and began to read.

 _To Mr. & Mrs. Arthur Mason_

 _Well. I still can't quite believe I am sitting here writing this letter. Abigail is beside herself. I don't know what to think. I just ran in to Sadie Adler a few months ago, and she only just now informed me that you are alive. In Vermont? What the hell are you doing in Vermont, Arthur? What the hell are you doing alive? Don't get me wrong, I'm happy - **angry as hell** \- but happy. We thought you were dead. Especially after reading in the papers that old Dutch and that bastard Micah had disappeared, we were sure of it. What happened? I guess I can assume that Willa found you - hi, Willa - - congratulations on getting married, by the way - - and the two of you somehow made it out of there. Sadie's been goddamn tight-lipped about the whole thing, needless to say. Only reason why she decided to inform me about you at all was because I told her what I'm about to tell you. Abigail and I had a kind of a rough patch for a while. I guess I was being a bastard, as usual - as you can see, not much has changed, ha ha - so to make it up to her, I decided to try and be a **good** goddamn man and went and took out a bank loan - I'm an idiot, I know - and bought a spit of land west of Blackwater and built her a house. And now I'm going to ask her to marry me. And I want the two of you to be here for it. And bring Sam, if he's inclined. Jack misses you too. Kid's grown like a weed. You'll barely recognize him. Oh, Charles Smith and Uncle are currently living out here with us, too. That goddamn greasy old fart is still alive, can you believe it? I swear, ain't nothing going to kill that old coot. Also, I got something else I'd like to talk to you about, but I think that should wait until you get here. Call it some incentive. Now I know I've got your attention, you'll come, right? Not that I don't want to kick your ass clear across Great Plains for playin' dead so long - because I surely do - but [several scribbled out words] I missed you, brother. And I hope you'll write back to let me know you'll make the trip._

 _[looks like the name 'Jim' scribbled out]_

 _John_

Arthur cursed and dropped the burning stub of the cigarette from between his fingers. He'd clear forgotten he was smoking it. He rubbed his hand in the grass absently, leaning his head back against the wall of the postal office and gazing up at the sky. John and Abigail and Jack. He'd thought about them often; laid awake, sleepless in bed some nights just wondering about what had happened to them. It warmed him to know they had made it.

He couldn't help chuckling softly to himself at the tone of John's letter. He could _hear_ the bastard's voice in his head while he read it, all raspy and puffed up with righteous anger at the thought of being kept in the dark for eight years. He couldn't blame Marston for being angry, but at the same time, he'd had no idea where they were, either; even if Arthur _had_ wanted to contact John, which he surely did at times, he'd had absolutely no way of knowing how he would even go about trying. Now, with this letter, he knew.

 _Blackwater._ That was a surprise. What was he thinking, settling down so close to their old stomping grounds? Maybe eight years was long enough for the locals to forget their faces, but with a moniker like the Blackwater Massacre left in their wake, it seemed the gang's time in West Elizabeth wouldn't have been something so quickly forgotten.

Could he do it? Could he go all the way back there, face all the old places and memories he had long since tried to bury? Arthur sighed heavily, folded the letter back up neatly and stuck it, along with the others, in his satchel. He would wait until he got home to read the other two with Willa.

It was true, he had made great strides in coming to terms with who he had been and the things he had done; the sheer distance they had traveled was a large part of that. Being removed from the gang and the life they had led, Arthur had realized just how firmly Dutch had always had them pressed down under his thumb. He had spouted all that lofty nonsense about the truth of America, and the heinous greed and villainy of rampant expansion and the encroachment of civilization, but it had all been horse shit. Maybe in the old days there had been grains of truth; it had hurt to admit to himself that there had, in fact, been a time when Dutch _hadn't_ been completely reckless and insane. There had been a time when he remembered Dutch actually _caring_ about him. Him and John, both.

John was his brother, though there was no blood to link them. And he had wasted so much time being jealous of the younger man for years; when he had first joined their group back when it was still a small family unit and Marston was just a scraggly, feral kid. All the way up through him and Abigail first getting together, having a child together. Watching him abandon them for a year, making the same mistakes Arthur had made with Eliza and Isaac; but then, watching him start to come to his senses as things with the gang began falling apart. Watching John try to make amends for being so absent, watching him try to take responsibility and trying to keep his family safe. They had both done a lot of growing in that last year of the gang; partly out of necessity, it was true, but losing Hosea and bearing witness to Dutch's mental and emotional decline had seemed to shake something loose in the both of them.

Arthur had to think the love of a good woman had at least helped shake things loose inside him; when he thought back on all the things he could have done differently when she'd showed up, listening to her gut reactions to Dutch was at the top of the list. It still haunted him sometimes, the memory of that night at Shady Belle when he'd come back from that poker game and they'd gotten into that big fight about her loyalty; he hadn't known how to react to a woman so openly offering her own to _him._ Saying that Dutch reminded her too much of her brother should have been the tipping point, but he'd still been so uselessly mired in the bullshit, he couldn't see the truth behind it. The loyalty she offered him, it wasn't Dutch's brand of loyalty; conditional upon how useful one could be. It was a loyalty based on respect, based on the man she saw that he could be, even if he still hadn't seen it himself.

She had fought for him, tooth and nail, to the very end. He _still_ found himself in great admiration of that. Even if he had been too stupid to realize just how bad things truly were, she had never given up on him. He idly wondered if John felt the same about Abigail; he must, if he was finally planning on asking her to marry him after all this time. Who was he kidding? He knew Willa would want to make the trip, and he did too, when it came down to it. Didn't make any sense sitting here, contemplating the potential trauma of seeing all those old places back west. Things had changed a great deal over the course of the last eight years. At the end of the day, he missed his little brother. And he missed Abigail, and little Jack. And Charles. And hell, he even missed Uncle.

Arthur got to his feet with a groan and some creaking joints, reached back to dust any stray blades of grass from the seat of his pants, and then made his way back to the general store to get the wagon loaded up. They could figure out a way to get the farm looked after for the summer. He knew Sam had a leave coming up before he headed out on a tour of duty with the navy. Maybe he would come with them, or maybe their neighbor Mr. Jefferies could be persuaded to stop by and take care of things if they paid him for his time. They would figure it out, but first he had to get home and talk to Wilhelmina about it. A smile flitted across his features as he thought about those three women together again, Willa and Abigail and Sadie. Christ, him and John would have their hands full, sure enough. That smile stuck around the whole ride back to their little farm.


	40. Epilogue Part II - Beecher's Hope i

"John Marston, how many times are you gonna clean that goddamn gun of yours?"

John's eyes flicked up to meet Abigail's; she stood in front of the kitchen sink, busy with a towel, drying the dishes she'd just done. Even in the midst of chores, she found time to chide. She'd only been back with him a month now. It amazed him sometimes. He looked back down at the cattleman in his hand, taking the oiled-up rag he'd been using and scrubbing a particularly scuffed section of the barrel. "Don't know, Abigail...I'm just passin' the time, is all," he gritted out through his teeth.

Abigail stopped wiping the cast iron pan she held, set it down on the countertop. She flicked the towel over her shoulder and approached where he sat, hunched over in a chair pulled to the side of the large dining table. She planted her hands on her hips and gave him a pointed look. "Why are you so anxious, John? Ain't you excited? It's been almost _eight years_ since you've seen him. Don't you think whatever nonsense went on 'tween the two of you is all well and done by now?"

John cocked an eyebrow and looked up at her. "That's not-"

Her brows went up incredulously. "Don't play that game with me, John. You been pacin' and fidgetin' and fiddlin' with things ever since you got Arthur's last letter. And they're supposed to be here today." Abigail's features softened and she pulled another chair out from the table so that she could take a seat beside him. "What is it you're so worried about?"

John pursed his lips, threw down the rag and reached up to scratch the scruff on the side of his jaw. "I don't...I don't exactly know, Abigail." He sighed, leaned back in the chair and spread out his long legs. He looked past her, toward the piano that sat against the wall. "You know how it was with us. You know how _he_ was. Guess I just...I don't know, maybe I'm worried I still ain't good enough. I still ain't done well enough for myself...for us."

He couldn't tell her he was fretting over wanting Arthur's help picking out a ring for her. Nor could he tell her that he intended to tell Arthur he'd heard rumors about Micah Bell. "I mean, it don't feel strange to you? Thinkin' he was dead for _years_ , and then suddenly finding out he up and run off to Vermont and married Willa? I mean, I'm happy for him, I'm happy he's alive, but..."

"You missed him. You wanted him to be around. I know you, John. I know you miss everyone from the gang. I miss 'em too. But..." She sighed, leaned forward and put a hand on his knee, waited for him to finally look at her again. "You're doin' good. _We're_ doin' good. Now you know I ain't fond of the work you been doin' with Sadie, but...but I know you're just tryin' to bring money in. I know that. Ain't like Arthur's turned into some highfalutin, luxury-lovin' prick like Dutch. He is gonna be the same old surly-on-the-outside, soft-on-the-inside older brother he's always been. He's gonna be _proud_ of you, John. Just like I am. Okay?"

John blinked. "I...okay." He popped open the chamber of the revolver, looking down into it idly before rotating it back into place.

Abigail watched him for a few more moments before shaking her head and standing. Just as she was about to throw her hands up and turn away, she felt his calloused fingers curl around her wrist, stopping her and pulling her down onto his lap. "John-!?"

He set the cattleman down on the table and circled his arms around her waist, nesting his scarred cheek against her shoulder. "Thank you, Abigail. M'sorry. You know I ain't so good with talkin' about...feelings, and things."

Her incensed expression immediately softened up. Abigail tutted and flattened her palm against his chest. "That you are not, John Marston. You _and_ that boy of yours. But, lord knows, I still seem to love you all the same..."

He was silent for a moment, burying a small smirk into the fabric of her blouse. "You really proud of me?"

She angled her head to look down at him, a smirk tugging at the corner of her own mouth. "Maybe, just a little..."

* * *

Arthur dropped Aster's reins to fidget with the sleeve of his plaid shirt, rolling it back up to his elbow from where it had worked itself down his forearm. He'd shed his jacket hours ago, just after they'd gotten their horses out of the livestock car. Their train had arrived at Riggs Station around eight that morning, giving them most of the day to travel south to the ranch John had called Beecher's Hope, tucked out in the prairie just to the west of Blackwater. The temperature was rising steadily as the sun arced higher in the sky, though at least it was dry heat out here. Thank God they hadn't settled in Lemoyne.

Willa could tell he was nervous. They had been traveling by train for the better part of five days, and he had been uncharacteristically quiet for almost all of it. She oscillated back and forth between trying to absorb the scenery - she'd never been this far west before - and glancing over at him, still waiting for him to blurt out what exactly it was that was bothering him. "We're almost there now, ain't we? Just a short ride from the river's what he said?"

Arthur grunted an affirmative, nodding curtly as he reached up to mop some sweat from under the brim of his hat. He squinted upwards as he caught the silhouette of a large bird gliding through the clear blue of the sky above them; a condor or an eagle, maybe. He hadn't seen a condor since before they'd set up camp near Blackwater, all those years ago.

Willa sighed and urged Percy into a canter, coming around in front of Arthur and Aster and cutting them off from their intended path. "Arthur."

He blinked, pulled up on Aster's reins, leaned down to pat her neck when she half-turned and snorted indignantly at the stallion that had put itself in her way. "What?"

"What the hell is goin' on with you? You've barely spoken a goddamn word since we left Burlington. No offense honey, but it's becoming just a little bit cumbersome. _Talk to me."_

Arthur huffed out a sigh, casting his gaze away from her. He was about to say something when a gunshot cut him off and Aster whinnied and reared, nearly toppling him right off her saddle when a bullet bit into the dirt just beside them. " _What in the goddamn-!?"_

Willa quickly pulled up on Percy's reins and turned him in the direction the gun had been fired from, spying a wagon coming up on them fast from where the road cut west. She reached down and grabbed her shotgun from where it was stowed at the stallion's side. "Shit!"

"Whooowee! Look what we got here, boys! We got some uncommon luck today!" There were two men sitting on the driver's bench, decked out in fur hats and dark leather jackets it looked like they'd crafted themselves. They must have been sweating like pigs under all their trappings. Another man hung out from the side of the wagon, clutching the roof by one hand and aiming at them with a sawed off with the other. The driver caught sight of Wilhelmina and a wide grin spread across his bearded face, showing off the teeth he was missing. "We got a woman! Keep her alive if you can, boys!"

Arthur cursed and yanked his revolver from its holster, spurring Aster into action. He had no idea how she would react in the face of such danger; Vermont was a paragon of safety compared to the bullshit that was apparently still occurring in these parts of the country. She whinnied again and took off into a gallop, bringing him around in a wide half-circle.

Wilhelmina spurred Percy into a mirroring action, circling wide around the wagon's other side as it barreled over the dirt road towards them. Another gunshot went off and the bullet just barely missed Percy's flank. Willa clenched her jaw and spit out a string of healthy curses, dropping the reins so that she could lift the butt of the gun to her shoulder and take aim. "Steady, Perce, steady!"

Arthur let off several shots from his revolver, spilling the man who'd been leaning out from the side of the carriage. He let out a sharp cry before he hit the dirt and rolled with the momentum before finally stilling, body haphazardly half-turned toward the sky.

"Some goddamn pathetic bandits, you are! _Come on!"_ Arthur's blood was up now. They'd taken a few bounties back east, but otherwise he'd tried to put his gunslinging days behind him. He found himself slipping back into it almost too easily, and that combined with all his other current anxieties and the sordid idea of them thinking they could try and take his wife; well, that was enough to send him clear off the even keel he'd worked so hard to cultivate.

Willa tried to time her shot, waiting until she saw the passenger on the bench bringing his own weapon up to aim. She exhaled a big breath, but before she could pull the trigger the bandit did it first; she wasn't expecting him to be so fast. Percy reared and dumped her onto the ground hard. She yelped and saw stars for a few seconds after the back of her head smacked into the gravel, the shotgun flying out of her hands to slide across the dirt several feet away.

"Scoop her up, Amos! Quick," the driver yelled, cracking the reins and pulling on them hard to urge the horses into turning the wagon around.

"Wilhelmina! _Sons of bitches!"_ Arthur spurred Aster back into a gallop to come up on the wagon after it passed him, laying off a few more shots and taking out the man on the passenger side. He didn't see the other bandit jumping out of the back of the carriage on the opposite side.

Willa groaned and looked around, spotting the shotgun lying on the ground off to her right. She scrambled to her knees to try and get to it, spitting out gravel and dust as she went.

The man who'd jumped down from the wagon approached her quickly, turning the rifle he held around in his hands so that he could knock her across the back of the head with the butt of it.

Another shot going off startled her, caused her to flop over onto her backside quickly just as she put her hand on the shotgun. The man who'd been coming for her grunted, cursed, tripped over his own feet and face-planted into the dirt at her heels, blood welling up from the hole in the center of his back.

"Oh shit!" She finally remembered her volcanic, nestled snugly in the holster at her hip. She hardly ever wore it anymore. She yanked it out quickly, threw back the hammer and took aim, clipping the wagon driver just as he was taking a shot at Arthur.

He let out a pained scream and his shot went wide before his pistol fell from his hand and he went rolling and writhing right off of the drivers bench. Arthur turned his head to look briefly, having clear forgotten about the driver in his haste to take care of the bastard he'd suddenly seen who'd been making for his wife.

"Jesus Christ!" He lept from Aster's saddle and jammed his gun back into its holster, running for her, reaching up to wipe the sweat out of his eyes with his forearm. "Willa, you alright!?"

She huffed out a big breath and let herself drop back into the dirt, squinting up into the bright sky with a glazed expression. "Think so."

He skidded to a stop beside her, dropping to his knees with a grunt as they creaked and groaned with his weight. He wasn't as spry as he had been back when this kind of shit had been his normal day-to-day. He did a quick assessment, checking for blood, leaned down to gently tuck his fingers under her head. He felt an egg growing there from where she'd been thrown into the dirt, but otherwise she seemed okay. "C'mon, darlin'. We gotta get the hell outta here. Shootin' a bunch of bastards down in broad daylight in the middle of the goddamn prairie ain't exactly my idea of keepin' a low profile."

Willa blinked a few times and winced as she sat herself up, grabbing onto a handful of his shirt to keep herself steady. She looked at the man who lay dead at her feet, then up to see the carriage, but it was long gone; the horses had been thoroughly spooked and run off with it, it seemed. She sighed and reached up to rub the back of her head briefly before Arthur helped her to her feet. "Guess all the gangs ain't been run out just yet, huh...nasty sons of bitches." She spit at the bandit.

Arthur bent down to retrieve her shotgun, then whistled for the horses. "That was too nice of a carriage for a bunch of goddamn toothless hicks. I'm guessin' they killed some folk and stole it, then came across us."

"Yeah, well...good thing I got Arthur Morgan watchin' my back, then." She glanced over at him as he offered the shotgun out to her, took it and slung it over her shoulder. "That little encounter give you a chance to work out whatever your issue was, killer?"

Arthur sighed, shifting uncomfortably on his feet. "Could you maybe not say my name so loud?" He rested a hand against Aster's neck as the mare came up beside them, averting his gaze from her. He knew he probably sounded like a madman, what with it seeming to be just the two of them and their horses now amid a strange circle of dead bodies. "I just...guess I just ain't sure what to expect, you know? Bein' back here, is...it's dredgin' up a lot of memories. And this bullshit ain't helpin'." He kicked a boot into the dead bandit's shoulder, grimacing.

She chewed her lip for a moment and looked up, ran her fingers across his stubbled cheek. "John's tryin' to be a rancher, right? It ain't like he's itchin' to take you out to rob a train or hold up a bank. He wants to get _married_. And he wants his big brother to be there. And...hell, if I rode into Blackwater right now, there's probably a bounty for these assholes posted up on every corner. You ain't gotta worry about fallin' back into the old life, Arthur. Neither of you boys need that shit anymore. And...I'm sorry for sayin' your name. I understand why you're nervous, I do..."

He huffed out a sigh and moved his hand away from Aster to cradle her cheek, leaned down and brushed his lips against hers. She was covered in West Elizabeth dirt from her fall, but what was a little grit in the mouth in the grand scheme of things? "I know. You're right. Just...anxious about bein' back out here, is all. Bein' recognized...it wouldn't be nothin' nice..."

Her mouth quirked. "Seems like John's been out here for a bit. If he's been okay, no reason you shouldn't be. Anyway, we need to get outta here, right?"

Arthur nodded and finally parted from her. He took Aster's reins and pulled himself up onto the saddle, leaning down once he was situated to tighten one of the straps that had come loose. "Suppose we should. I got no desire to be bushwhacked a second time."

Willa walked over to Percy, noticed him huffing and snorting as she got closer, tossing his head back and forth. She took up his reins in one hand and examined him, noticed blood staining his right haunch. "Shit. Arthur, Perce got hit!" She forgot about trying to get mounted up, moved to his backside instead to examine the wound.

Arthur was squinting off across the road, but he whipped his head around when she called out. "How bad?!"

"It's not that bad," she replied, visibly relieved as she glanced back at him. "Just clipped him. But we didn't bring any medical supplies, did we? Shit." She rolled her eyes at their infinite foolishness, smoothing a palm down Percy's side in a reassuring pat.

"Well, turns out that may not be much of a problem, sweetheart..."

Willa blinked and looked up again to see him pointing across the road at a wooden signpost spanning above a break in a fence. Scratched into the wood were the words _Beecher's Hope._ They had just gotten into a gunfight not forty feet away from their old friend's property line. "Well, shit."

They tarried just outside the fence for a few minutes before Arthur let out a big breath and finally urged Aster in under the narrow wooden signboard. Willa opted to lead Percy on instead of riding him, figuring he'd be less inclined to be pissed at her that way. They followed the dirt track around a long bend, and they both found their jaws dropping as a lovely ranch house came into view, complete with a barn, chicken coop, sheds and all. A few horses milled about out front, cropping grass here and there. A cow huffed and swished its tail inside the fence attached to the side of the barn.

"I'll be damned..." Arthur reached up to take his hat off, absently reaching back to cram it into one of Aster's saddlebags.

Willa found herself grinning just thinking about how much Abigail must be in love with the place. It was beautiful. The Marstons had done well, it seemed. Her grin widened even further when she saw a familiar figure approaching them from a little campfire set up off to the right, near the shade of a few oaks.

"Charles!" She dropped Percy's reins and booked it for the large man, clear forgetting their bloody encounter, jumping into his arms and causing him to stumble with the sheer force of it.

Charles grunted and chuckled, returning her embrace while he looked over her shoulder. He caught Arthur's gaze, a smile breaking out on his face as he nodded a hello to his old friend. "You made it. How was the trip? Hey, what the hell was all that noise I just heard?"

Willa squeezed him once more and pulled back, glancing over her shoulder and then stepping aside as Arthur came up beside them.

"Oh, you know how it is, my friend," he said as he extended a hand to Charles, who promptly took it and pulled the older man into a firm, but brief, hug. "Got ambushed by some greasy, toothless vagabonds just before we realized this was the place. Stupid, mean sons of bitches..."

Charles took a step back from Arthur, crossing his arms as his brows drew down in concern. "What'd they look like, just out of curiosity?"

They described the bandits they'd encountered, and Charles sighed. "Sorry to say you just met some of the Skinners. They _are_ nasty. I know you two can handle yourselves, but you're lucky there weren't more of 'em. They almost flayed old Uncle alive a few months ago."

Willa's excitement paled and Arthur let out an uneasy sound, shaking his head as they all fell into step together towards the house. "You know I thought it was bad, the likes of us gettin' wrung out of history as we were, but how in the ever-lovin' Christ did them kinda freaks keep thrivin'? You know, I heard in the train station them Murfrees are still causin' trouble up in Roanoke, _and_ them goddamn night folk over in Bayou N-"

"Well, well! Look at what them horses dragged in! My God, children, did you take a dirt bath 'fore you got here?" They all looked up to see Uncle standing on the porch of the house, looking hale as ever despite his purportedly recent brush with death.

"Who you callin' a child, you drunk old bastard!? Get the hell down here." Arthur waved the old man down, hooking his other thumb into his gun belt.

Uncle cackled as he came down the steps and got closer. "Who _am_ I callin' a child? Hell, Arthur, you're almost as silvery as I am!"

Willa's face split into another wide grin when she saw Abigail appear in the doorway just as Uncle was making his way down to them. Abigail brought her hands up to cover her mouth, bouncing a bit in her excitement before she turned and yelled, "John! _John! Jack! Get out here!"_

Before they knew it she'd lifted her skirts and was bounding down the porch steps towards them, going for Wilhelmina first since Uncle was busy shaking Arthur's hand and patting him on the back.

Willa caught Abigail with open arms as the younger woman crashed into her, laughing more brightly than she thought she ever had in her whole life. "Oh, Abigail, look at you! You ain't even aged a day!"

"Oh, stop that! Lyin' never got no one anywhere!" Abigail pulled herself back so that she could hold Willa at arm's length, looking her up and down. Her gaze flicked to the ring that adorned her finger, then over to Arthur, then back to Willa. "You two...my God, I know it's years late, but congratulations!" She dropped her hands to grab up Willa's, squeezed them briefly. "I always knew the two of you would make it."

Wilhelmina found herself blushing. Arthur smirked, turned from Uncle and scooped Abigail into a hug. "Abigail Roberts. Thank you, m'lady. You are still just as beautiful as the last time I saw you."

Abigail scoffed, squeezing Arthur. She'd forgotten just how big he was, like Charles. It felt good to have her two big men there. "The last time you saw me, I was tied to a chair about to be tried for murder, or some such nonsense. And I thought John was dead. I'm sure I looked like shit."

Arthur barked out a laugh and shook his head, took a step back. "Nah, darlin,' you ain't never looked like shit a day in your life." He glanced up at the porch. "I always knew John Marston was the luckiest son of a bitch in the world..."

"Til you somehow managed to snag a fine woman of your own. Don't leave your beautiful wife hangin' like that, Morgan." John's heavy boots clumped on the porch as he made his way out the door and down to them. Jack trailed out quietly behind him, a book clutched in one of his hands.

Arthur's eyes widened at the sight of the boy. He'd shot up a good three feet at least since the last time he'd seen him, sending him off to Copperhead Landing with Tilly, Karen and Sean. He swallowed down a lump that had formed in his throat, memories crashing through his brain like a tornado.

"John Marston!" Willa squealed and ran to him.

John caught her in his arms and chuckled roughly. "Good to see you, Willa. You finally made a decent man outta that wretch over there?"

She scoffed and gave him a lighthearted punch on the arm as she let him go. "I'd say Abigail and I _both_ had our work cut out for us. This is a real beautiful place you got here, John," she finished wistfully.

Arthur lifted a hand to give a sort of timid wave to Jack, standing just off to the side now. "Hey, Jack. It, uh...sure has been a little while, huh? You look real good, son."

A smile ghosted across the boy's face, and he took a few steps closer. "It's...it's real good to see you, uncle Arthur."

Abigail made her way back to the porch and grabbed Willa's hand to lead her up into the house. "C'mon! I got a big meal cookin' in there, and I could surely use some help with it. We can let the men catch up for a bit."

Wilhelmina chuckled, glancing back at Arthur briefly before she got led away up the stairs. She caught him giving her a little smirk and a nod before they disappeared inside.

Arthur's gaze moved away, from Jack up to John. They eyed each other almost uncertainly for a moment. Arthur cleared his throat and looked down at his boots briefly. "Well, well...little Johnny Marston."

John crossed his arms, giving Arthur a pointed look. "You ain't allowed to call me that anymore, _old man._ "

Arthur tutted and shook his head, finally strode forward to clap John on the shoulder. "This is a real nice place. Seems like you done real good, Marston. Even if you was dumb enough to take out a loan from a bank."

John blinked, momentarily caught off guard by Arthur's touch. He'd been fretting about this for weeks, run all kinds of hypotheticals through his head, felt like he'd done okay so far, but it hadn't felt really _real_ until Arthur's hand came down on his shoulder. He looked into the older man's eyes for a moment and then the hesitation finally broke. He lunged forward a little awkwardly, wrapped an arm around Arthur's shoulder and was the last of the little group to finally pull him into a hug. "It's real good to see you, brother..."

Arthur's expression softened, the crow's feet crinkling around his eyes. He patted John on the back. "Damn good to see you too, John. I'm, uh...I'm sorry I had no way of gettin' in touch wit' you, all these years..."

John shook his head and stepped back, waving it off. "We traveled a lot for a while, after everything. Went out to the Yukon for a bit, tried pannin' for gold. Didn't work out so well. Only reason I ran into these fools was pure coincidence once we came back down this way." John lifted his hand again to wave them all into the house, but Arthur stopped him.

"Shit, listen John...'fore we get too caught up in reminiscin' and swappin' stories, you got anything to patch up a flesh wound? We met some of them, uh...what'd you call 'em, Charles?"

"Skinners, tried to ambush them on the road outside the property," Charles replied.

"Yeah, what he said. We're alright, but a bullet clipped Wilhelmina's horse. I gotta get that taken care of 'fore we get too far off track, here."

"Shit. Those bastards again?" John switched directions, falling back into comfortable control at the prospect of some honest to God _action,_ and led them off toward the barn. He was always better when there were things that needed doing instead of things that needed talking about. Charles fell into step beside them while Uncle tottered off to find whatever bottle he'd most recently been drinking from. The Skinners were still a tender subject for the old man.

Jack strayed back to the porch, taking a seat on the steps and reaching over to pet their dog, Rufus, as the yellow lab came up beside him. He watched the men walking away a little curiously, trying to dredge up the memories he still had from the days when his parents had run with the gang. He'd been so young, he'd lost a lot, but he remembered the end of it all better than anything.

Having that other boy, Sam, there with him had helped him get through the worst days at Beaver Hollow. And Arthur's wife had always been kind to him. He remembered crying and being terrified when they'd fled Bluewater Marsh and left his mother and Willa there with the Pinkertons, not knowing whether he was going to see either of his parents again after that. But Arthur had come riding in, big and strong and gallant as always, and told him to be brave. That he was going to get his mother. Arthur had always been kind to him. Arthur had always tried to rescue whoever needed rescuing. Jack glanced down at the book he'd set on the step beside him. _Idylls of the King,_ by Tennyson.

The boys got Percy patched up and led all the horses inside the fence to settle them in for the evening before grabbing Arthur and Willa's luggage off the animals' backs and bringing it inside. Arthur glanced over at John before asking, "where's Sadie at? Isn't she still down this way?"

"Oh, she is." John stepped to the side to let Arthur and Charles into the house first, since they were carrying the bags. "She took off for Blackwater this morning. Should be back any time now. That woman, she is...somethin' else."

Arthur scoffed as he made his way up the steps. "Hell, that ain't nothin' new. She's always burned like a goddamn wildfire. Though, I had hoped it might've fizzled out a bit by now..."

John snorted softly, shut the door and moved in between Arthur and Charles. "Not yet, it seems. Here, I'll show you where you'll be stayin'." John waved Arthur on once more, moved down past the kitchen where the women were finishing things up, through the living area and down a hallway.

Once things were somewhat settled, Arthur returned to help the women set the table but promptly got shooed out by Abigail. "Oh, no you don't, Arthur Morgan. Go sit and relax or somethin'. Jack can set the table."

Arthur put his hands up and chuckled, moved out of the way to stand to the side and pet Rufus as Willa and Abigail began bringing plates of food over from the cook stove. It was quite a spread when all was said and done. John retrieved an armful of beers from the kitchen and handed them out, nodded his head toward the table. "Alright, folks. Let's get to it. The faster we get this over with, the faster I can bring out the whiskey."

Abigail smacked him on the arm to the accompaniment of a few hearty chuckles from Willa and the men. "I ain't so sure, John. Way I heard it, the last time you boys got into the whiskey, old Uncle up and got himself _whisked_ away in the night."

Uncle put a hand to his heart as he took a seat. "Why, Abigail Roberts, you wound me! I am a defenseless old man! And sickly, to boot!"

"You were drunk and passed out belly-up in the front yard of a half-built house, you old crook. Easy pickings for them Skinners."

Willa took a seat between Arthur and Abigail. Charles and Uncle sat across from them, with Jack on the end closest to his father who had taken a seat at the head of it all. The chair at the opposite end of the table remained empty, though the lady who was to fill it came barging in through the front door just a few moments after they'd begun passing the food around.

"John, you know you got bodies on the road outside this place!?"

Everyone looked over as Sadie Adler swept into the house, the heavy leather duster she wore creaking softly with every movement.

"Yeah, Skinners decided to throw Arthur and Willa a goddamn welcoming party. You can see which ones walked away from it. C'mon, take your coat off, Sadie," John said as he pushed back his chair and made for the kitchen to grab another beer.

Willa pushed back her own chair to rush over and give Sadie a big hug, knocking her hat clear off her head and almost making her drop that huge coat before she could get it hung up on a hook. "Sadie Adler! Bounty hunter extraordinaire. Shit, it's good to see you!"

Sadie let out a raspy chuckle, reaching up over Willa's shoulder to get the coat hung before returning the hug. "It is good to see you, _Mrs. Mason._ How's married life treatin' y'all?" She eyed Arthur from over Willa's shoulder, shooting him a little wink.

"Ah, married life's just fine, Sadie," Arthur replied as the two women made their way back to the table. He stood up and wrapped her in a warm embrace when she came up to him.

Sadie took the empty seat at the end of the table between Charles and Arthur and grabbed up the beer John had brought for her. "Charles," she nodded at the big man beside her before turning her attention back to their guests. "Say, where's Sam? He didn't come with you?"

Charles glanced over, cleared his throat. "Sadie."

Arthur shook his head, brought his own beer to his lips. "Nah, he offered to stay back and take care of the homestead while we're gone. On leave from the _navy,_ if you can believe that."

"No shit!?" Sadie snorted and took a sip before setting the bottle down and getting busy loading her plate up with food. "Christ, Simon Pearson's ears must be burnin' holes through his head all the way back in Rhodes. _Greasy old walrus_ ," she finished under her breath.

Willa and Arthur blinked, glancing at each other. "Pearson's...in Rhodes?" Arthur fiddled with the fork he held, suddenly very curious.

Sadie gave him a slow and exaggerated nod. "John told me he run into him a few months back. Him _and_ a few of the others...if you're curious..."

Arthur turned his focus to John, almost nervous. "Who else you seen since you been back?"

John told them all about Pearson running the Rhodes general store, running into Mary-Beth up in Valentine, and almost walking right by Tilly on the streets of St. Denis, who happened to be heavily pregnant at the time.

Arthur's eyes shone with that. He looked down as a smirk crossed his lips, eyeing his beer and twirling it between his fingers. "Miss Tilly, by God...good for her. Good for _them._ That's _real_ fine..."

Uncle piped up then, between bites of the steak and potatoes Abigail had prepared. "Hey, what about the two of you? Why ain't you here with any little'uns in tow?"

Willa blinked, her gaze flicking to Arthur for a moment. He cleared his throat. Sadie and Abigail both knew about Willa's inability to have children, but the other men didn't; unless Abigail had mentioned it to John at some point. "Well, uh...we did try for a few years. Sort of knew nothin' would come of it, though. I had some...troubles when I was young."

Arthur reached over to grab up her fingers in his own. "Anyway, we got Sam. Kid's just as much of a real son as either of us could've asked for. Smart as a whip. Still don't know when to shut up sometimes, though."

Willa sneered softly, rolling her eyes over at him. "He only does that when he gets nervous, Arthur. Don't slander the poor kid when he ain't even here to defend himself."

"He did want to come out here in the hopes of seein' you again, Jack," Arthur said as he nodded to the teenager across the table. "He's got real fond memories of you. Told us to say hello. You remember Sam?"

Jack looked up at Arthur and nodded, still reserved. He had certainly become a bookish young man, very quiet in the presence of his parents' old friends. "I remember some. It was nice, havin' another kid around. That last camp we were at...Beaver Hollow? I remember not likin' it very much at all."

The mood seemed to dampen a bit around the table. A guilty look swept across Abigail's face.

"None of us liked it very much, boy," John said as he stood up to clear his plate, moving around to gather dishes up from the others who were done eating as well.

Arthur's mouth quirked. "M'sorry you had to be there for all that business, Jack. It wasn't, uh...well, I guess we didn't do much right by you boys in them last days. Should've cleared out long before..."

"You saved ma. And pa. You saved all of us."

Arthur blinked, felt a small blush creeping up his cheeks and hitting his ears. Abigail stood to help John get things cleaned up, and the conversation turned back to much more lighthearted subjects as John made good on his threat of bringing out the whiskey. He brought glasses to the table, filling each one neatly a quarter of the way.

Jack went off to bed a few hours later, and things kicked up a notch after that. Most of the glasses had been long forgotten, folks just passing a few different bottles around and roaring laughter at the telling of jokes and stories.

Willa found herself grinning again, feeling that whiskey coursing through her real nice, relieved beyond belief how easily Arthur seemed to have shed his earlier anxieties. She watched with ruddy cheeks and sparkling eyes as he barked out a laugh at Sadie and John's retelling of a particularly embarrassing bounty they'd attempted to take in.

Sadie snorted once the story ended and took a long sip from one of the bottles before passing it over to Charles. "You're a goddamn fool, _Jim Milton._ Thank God I've got a few friends down in Thieves Landing's all I gotta say..." Her eyes shifted to Arthur and after a moment she snorted again. "Christ, the two of you. You really _are_ brothers. _Milton_ and _Mason?_ You could've _tried_ comin' up with names that weren't so goddamn similar."

"Pfft." John patted Abigail to let her know he needed to get up - she'd perched on his lap at some point in the last hour - and reached into his pocket for a pack of cigarettes. "Things have been goin' just fine so far! What you gonna do, turn us in?"

They all had a good laugh at that before the group ended up splitting. The men went outside to smoke, while the women kept a bottle for themselves, staying perched on their chairs around the table and chattering away.

"So, Mary-Beth and Tilly are both well. Anyone heard from Karen and Sean?" Willa graciously accepted the bottle Abigail passed over to her.

"Yes, as a matter of fact. Tilly's kept in touch; she's been writin' us letters ever since John ran into her, and she mentioned that all three of 'em settled in St. Denis for a while after we all split up. But them two, well...I think they liked each other well enough, but it wasn't ever _love_ , y'know? Karen was tired of the life, wanted somethin' different for herself; and Sean bein' Sean, he wasn't ready to stop raisin' hell."

Willa took a swig from the bottle, glancing over at Sadie before offering the whiskey to her. "So they _didn't_ run off and conceive a gaggle of foul-mouthed little half-Irish goblins, is what you're sayin'?"

Sadie almost spit out the mouthful of whiskey she'd just taken, slapping her palm on the table to show how entertaining that prospect was to her.

Abigail scoffed and shook her head, waved a hand in the air dismissively. "Hell, no. Sean kept gettin' into trouble, got arrested for somethin' or other, went to Sisika for six months, and she decided she'd had enough; high-tailed it out for California. Kept in touch with Tilly, though. Guess she was a singer in a saloon out there for a few years. She always did have a real pretty singin' voice." She took the bottle from Sadie gratefully.

Willa hummed. "And what happened to Sean? You ever find out?"

Abigail shrugged and shook her head. "All we know's what Tilly's told us, and he never wrote to her. Think he looked her up when they let him out the penitentiary, tryin' to find out where Karen went, but after that...he disappeared out of St. Denis. She ain't seen him since."

Willa furrowed her brows at that news, taking the whiskey as it came back around to her. That was unfortunate; she'd always liked Sean, loudmouth braggart that he was. She hoped wherever he was, he was doing better for himself. "What about Kieran Duffy? Was he with Mary-Beth when John ran into her?"

Abigail shook her head, simply offering up another shrug. Suddenly, her face changed. A sly little grin spread across her features as she crossed her arms on the tabletop and leaned in conspiratorially. "Speakin' of Mary-Beth, though, I _do_ have another little tidbit. She's been writin' us letters too, and she told us about two years ago, she was over in _Dublin_ doin' some pokin' around and sightseein' for a book she was writin'..."

Wilhelmina and Sadie both blinked, looking confused as Abigail paused dramatically, her slightly bleary gaze moving back and forth between them expectantly. When they offered up no guesses or comments, she huffed slightly before she continued. "And she ran into none other than _miss Molly O'Shea."_

Willa and Sadie both balked; Sadie slammed the bottle down on the table a little harder than she meant to, sloshing some of the liquor out. "You're kiddin'?"

Abigail shook her head, bloated with the particular kind of glee that only gossiping women seemed to display. "Not a bit. I guess she did go home after all, got married...Mary-Beth said the fella bore more than a passin' resemblance to old Dutch van der Linde..."

Willa clapped a hand over her mouth. "Shit! No!?"

Abigail gave her a toothy grin and nodded. There was silence in the room for a few seconds, and then all three women burst into a fit of laughter.

Arthur had already heard a bit about what John had been up to, and a good part of their dinner conversation had centered around his and Wilhelmina's doings back in Vermont. He turned to Charles as they all got settled out on the porch, asked what had happened up in Canada with Rains Fall and the rest of the tribe as he struck a match to light his cigarette.

Charles told them some of what had happened with the Wapiti; they'd been treated much the same in the northern territories as they had down in the states, muscled and elbowed from place to place, shackled down with the same shockingly callous and indifferent bureaucracy. It was a hard burden to bear, the knowledge that all anyone seemed to want from them was unconditional assimilation or some kind of quiet and slow death; the kind that wouldn't bother the white men in their status quo. And to the tribes, those two options were one and the same. They were stuck between a rock and a hard place, indefinitely, it seemed.

Apparently, Charles had found a woman up there and things had been getting fairly serious, but she'd disappeared - along with a few others - from the reservation one night. They found out later they'd been raided by some of Manitoba's answer to the Murfree brood; inbred, xenophobic locals with a penchant for doing their dirty and bloody business in the dark of the night. Charles, Eagle Flies, and a few other men tracked them down and slaughtered them, but he'd found it provided no great ease to his pain. He'd left soon after, wandering south again with turmoil in his heart and no clear path on which to set himself. Fallen into drink, fallen into brawling in the streets of St. Denis for petty cash, and that was how John and Uncle had found him almost a year earlier.

Arthur wiped a hand across his mouth, letting the acrid smoke from the cigarette plume from his nose as he looked away out towards the road. "Shit, Charles I..." He sighed. "I know what that kinda pain is like. I am sorry, my friend..."

Charles hummed softly as he bowed his head, looking down at the pipe in his hand. "It's...not so bad now. That was five years ago. Spent a long time wondering how I could've saved her. Not sure if I agree that time heals all wounds, but...well..." He paused, glancing up between John and Arthur. "Good friends and family certainly seem to make it hurt a little less."

Arthur graced the other man with a sad smile, reached out to pat him on the shoulder. "That they do. After I...lost my boy and his mama, years and years ago, now...I soaked myself with booze for a good while after that. Made a big, goddamn messy production about tryin' to forget all of it. I'm honestly surprised Dutch never got sick of my bullshit and just tossed me out on my ass."

Charles blinked, looking up at Arthur in surprise. "You...had a son?"

John sighed, took a drag from his cigarette and leaned against the porch railing. Everyone in the gang had known about Arthur's little family at the time, but truth be told, he hadn't been all that concerned. He'd been a fourteen-year-old punk, too busy lusting after heists and hold-ups and money and recognition to be much concerned with Arthur's life completely falling apart. Most of what he remembered was that Arthur had been a goddamn mess for about a year before suddenly snapping out of it and completely absorbing the role of their growing gang's protector and enforcer. He'd stepped into it like a second skin and never once taken a look back.

Arthur nodded, picking up the bottle they'd set to balance on the porch railing. "I did. It...was an accident. And I weren't much better with them than my daddy was with me and my mama. They got killed and I wasn't around. And I blamed myself for it for a long time." He gave Charles a somewhat pointed look. "But you can't do that, Charles. Worst thing you can do is blame yourself. You can grieve, and you can keep that woman in your heart always...but don't destroy yourself bein' fixated on what you could've done different. It don't help nobody."

Arthur turned around as he heard John scoffing softly behind him. "What the hell's funny, Marston?"

John shook his head before he straightened up from where he'd been leaning, reaching over to nab the bottle from Arthur. "Nothin' funny at all. It's just...you're different."

Arthur snorted, squinted over at John through the smoke of his cigarette. "What the hell you mean, different?"

John shrugged his shoulders loosely, took a big sip from the bottle. "I don't know. You just got this," he paused, lifted the whiskey again and waved it around in the air. "This _air_ about you. Like you're...I don't know... _comfortable_. More I think about it, more I listen to you, more I realize...I don't know if you was _ever_ comfortable a day in your life, until...well, probably until you married that woman in there," he said as he motioned toward the house with a thumb.

Arthur's jaw moved. He glanced over briefly as Charles stuck himself between them to commandeer that bottle from John. Arthur shrugged and took one last drag before tossing the butt over the edge of the porch. "Look, Marston. You ain't wrong. Look at us. We got scars. Every single one of us, we _all_ got 'em. But she helped me see that...that they ain't just the mark of a person's sins. They ain't some brand we bear that automatically pins us for some fiery, eternal damnation. They ain't the _end_ of a story. They tell one, sure...but..." He grunted, shook his head, unsure of even what he was trying to say.

Charles had paused, leaned himself back against the railing while he sipped from the bottle and listened to his old friend. John was right, Arthur _was_ different. More confident. More comfortable with himself. He emanated a sort of quiet authority now, rather than the old aura of intimidation and violence only _just_ being kept in check. Although Charles had always been able to tell that was a facade, not many others did.

John tossed his own cigarette over the railing. "But what?" He was genuinely curious.

Arthur shrugged, taking the bottle Charles offered back to him. "I don't know. Story's still bein' told, I guess, is all I'm sayin'...I mean...that night I left you, I swear I was goin' back to Beaver Hollow expectin' to get blown all to hell by _somebody;_ Pinkertons or Dutch and Micah, or Bill and Javier. One of 'em was gonna finish me. Micah came goddamn close to it. And Dutch saw it and he _walked away. She_ was the one who came back for me. Willa, and Sadie and Sam. They all thought my sorry ass was worth savin'."

"It _was_ worth saving," Charles quickly retorted, John grunting in agreement beside him.

"Well, that's my point, fellas. I know that _now._ I...I just didn't before. And after that, I just started seein' things different. I _wanted_ to be decent, and honest. Well, honest about everything 'cept for my name, of course. But...I let myself get so caught up in the gang, and...and in keepin' in Dutch's favor all them goddamn years, I never realized how bad I was lyin' to myself. I like to think I would've come to my senses at the end if Willa hadn't been there, but...I don't know. Ain't ever been able to shake this feelin' I got that she saved me. Even before she showed up at Beaver Hollow that night. Like somethin' else even worse could've happened if she'd never come along."

The other two men regarded Arthur very soberly for a few moments. A sudden snore made them all jump, and they all whipped their heads around to see Uncle fast asleep in a rocking chair off in the corner, a bottle of beer propped between his legs. John sighed and rolled his eyes, but he made his way over and plucked up the bottle so that it wouldn't fall. He tapped the old man on the shoulder. "Get up and go sleep in your tent, you old codger. Obviously it's past your bedtime."


	41. Epilogue Part III - Beecher's Hope ii

Willa and Sadie ended up having to put Abigail to bed not too long after they had their discussion about what had happened to the other members of Dutch's old gang. She didn't get properly drunk often, and it turned out she was a bit of a lightweight these days.

Sadie chuckled and shook her head as they walked out of John and Abigail's bedroom and shut the door. "C'mon. I know where John keeps the liquor. We'll find us another bottle, yet."

Willa snickered, keeping pace with Sadie as they made their way down the hall. "Let's go find the boys. I don't know if I trust the four of them bein' left to their own devices. Arthur likes to wander when he's drinkin'..."

Sadie snorted. "Yeah, I remember he liked to wander off with _you_ when he was drinkin'. Hell, what am I sayin'? He liked to wander off with you no matter what state he was in." She turned away from Willa when they got back to the kitchen, squatting down by the counter and opening one of the cupboards underneath to rummage around.

Wilhelmina crossed her arms and leaned her shoulder against the wall. "You know, Sadie, I never thanked you..."

Sadie paused, shooting a brief and quizzical glance back over her shoulder. She found what she was looking for and stood up, turning around to lean back against the counter as she unsealed the fresh bottle. "For what?"

"That night, back at Shady Belle. The night we got Jack back from Bronte and my brother. We had that big party. You remember?"

Sadie smirked and looked down at the bottle before lifting it and taking a swig. "Oh, yeah," she replied through a bit of a cringe, sucking her teeth at the bite the whiskey left in its wake. "I remember...one of the last good times we all had."

"I never thanked you for what you said to me that night," Willa said as she pushed herself away from the wall and walked over to lean against the counter next to Sadie. "And I never thanked you for tryin' your damndest to keep me sane after Arthur and the rest of 'em disappeared. Or for savin' me from my brother." She reached out to take the bottle when Sadie offered it to her, looked over at the other woman very soberly. "Thank you, Sadie. I didn't...I never had friends before I met all of you. And I don't think I could've asked for better ones."

Sadie scoffed softly and shook her head. She was silent for a little while as Willa took a few sips, a somber expression falling over her face. "I wish you'd known me before..."

Willa blinked and looked over, brows drawing down. "Before? What, before the gang?"

Sadie nodded. "Yeah. Before them fuckin' O'Driscolls took my Jakey...'n turned me into a monster..."

Willa chewed her lip. She handed the bottle back, unsure of what to say. She certainly didn't think Sadie was a monster.

"The two of you would've figured each other out well enough without me givin' you my two cents. But...you're welcome, for what it's worth. At least I can be happy for you and Arthur, and John and Abigail." Sadie took another bitter sip, looking out across the space of the kitchen into some unknown distance.

"God, you and Arthur...I swear, the two of you are more alike than you know." Willa sighed. "You ain't no monster, Sadie. You went a little wild for a while, with Colm and all the rest of 'em, but...who _wouldn't?_ They took everything from you."

Sadie's gaze darkened. "Yes, they did..."

Willa took the bottle when Sadie offered it back, set it down on the counter and turned to face the other woman. "You know if you wanna get out of here, you can always come back to Vermont, right? Now that Sam's gone, it's just the two of us. We got a stable, we got a little farm. I know you and Jake were homesteadin' up in Ambarino. Whenever you want, you _always_ got a place with us..."

Sadie's mouth quirked. She folded her arms, casting her gaze down to the floor for a moment. "Willa, I appreciate that. I do, more than you know. But, well...there might be some business out here that needs takin' care of before I could even think about somethin' like that. Some business John and I was thinkin' of bringin' up to you two."

Sadie fell quiet again for a moment, and then she turned her head to meet Wilhelmina's questioning gaze. "I've heard rumors about Micah Bell."

Willa blinked. Slowly, her mouth opened like she was going to say something. She closed it again. Her features settled into a hard grimace. "Where? How long ago?"

"The last real reliable rumors I heard was about a year ago, but...listen. In my line of work, I hear a lot. Most of it's bullshit. But...I been hearin' more lately about a gang up north. Real nasty, up around Strawberry. Some of the things I've read in the papers too, makes it seem awfully suspicious."

Willa snatched the bottle up off the counter and took another drink and then lifted her other hand to wipe her mouth. She huffed out a breath through her nose, looking away. "Arthur ain't gonna wanna go after him," she replied with something like finality.

Sadie blinked, looking slightly flummoxed. "What you mean?"

"Just what I said. He's been serious about leavin' all that horseshit behind, Sadie. Trust me," Willa continued, gaze darkening. "I'd still love to put a bullet so far up that fucker's ass, lead would be hittin' his teeth, but..." She shook her head, clutched the bottle tightly against her chest. She didn't continue, could only find it in her to shake her head once more.

Sadie turned then, planting one hand on the countertop and hooking the other over her gun belt. "You're tellin' me, after _everything_ that bastard did, Arthur ain't ever thought about gettin' some kind of revenge?"

Willa finally looked back at the other woman, her brows drawn down. "Of course he's thought about it. He knows Dutch was always a manipulative bastard, but Micah was the one who finally unraveled that goddamn gang. Micah was the one spillin' everything to the Pinkertons. And _Micah_ was the one convinced Dutch _I_ was the rat. _Of course_ he thought about it. But _thinkin'_ about it is one thing, Sadie..."

"Tch..." Sadie rolled her eyes and sucked her teeth. "John and I'll be fine on our own, then. Might not come to nothin', anyway..."

Willa reached out and put a hand on Sadie's arm. "Look, just...don't say nothin' to Arthur about it yet, alright? Let me...let me feel it out. I didn't say _I_ wasn't interested..."

Sadie's gaze flicked back to her, a mean little grin crossing her features at hearing Willa's admission. "All right. Then I'll keep my ear to the ground. See what else I can find out about what's been goin' on up north. But, uh...well, I wouldn't be surprised if John's said somethin' to him already since they been outside."

"Shit..." Willa pushed herself off the counter and made for the front door.

Sadie blinked, trailing behind the other woman, and the whiskey she took with her.

The boys were no longer on the porch when they went outside; they'd moved out to the campfire at some point in the last few hours, discordant singing hitting the women's ears as they stepped outside; it made them shoot wry, amused looks at each other. Willa sighed. "Well, if he's out there singin', I guess that means they ain't brought it up after all. C'mon."

"She's the sweetest rose of color this soldier ever knew! Her eyes are bright as diamonds, they sparkle like the dew! You may talk about your Dearest May and sing of Rosa Lee, but the Yellow Rose of Texas beats the belles of Tennessee!"

The women made their way over to the fire, snickering to each other the whole way. Charles was playing away on his harmonica, just like he used to back at camp, and John and Arthur were singing, boisterously off-key.

"Where the Rio Grande is flowin' and the starry skies are bright! She walks along the river in the-"

Arthur stopped when the women came into his line of sight, swaying slightly upon the log where he was perched. He threw his arms out, heavy-lidded eyes lighting up at the sight, forgetting the _Yellow Rose of Texas_ in favor of their company. "Ladies! My ladies, where you been?"

He wrapped his arms around Wilhelmina's waist as she took a seat on his lap, offering her the bottle of moonshine he held even though she still had that whiskey in her hand. "My darlin' roses of...of West Elizabeth!" He hiccuped and exhaled a wheezy laugh against her arm.

Wilhelmina eyed the bottle briefly before rolling her eyes in an amused sort of way. She curled her arm around his neck, planted a kiss into his hair. "No wonder you're in such a good mood. Whiskey wasn't enough for you boys?"

Sadie took the moonshine from Arthur, lifted it to inspect its contents as she made her way over to take a seat a few feet from Charles. "This the stuff Uncle's been brewin'?"

Charles lowered the harmonica, let it rest in one big hand on top of his lap. "Yeah. Pretty good stuff, honestly. At least, it ain't killed any of us yet."

Sadie barked out a little laugh before tipping the bottle to her lips.

John had kept singing the song for a minute after Arthur stopped, and then just kind of loosely hummed, but when Charles stopped playing his vigor ran out. He looked around blearily, palms planted on his knees. "Where's the...the third rose?"

"Had to put her to bed, John," Sadie replied as she passed the moonshine over to Charles.

"Aw, Abbie..." John stood up, wobbling a bit before he found his footing. "I'm...I'ma go check on her." He paused, pointing a finger down at Arthur. "You're goin' into town with me tomorrow, Arthur. Gotta get that woman a ring. Gotta...gotta get her a ring and ask her to marry me..." John's words sort of petered out as he made his way back toward the house and out of earshot.

Willa smirked, threading her fingers through Arthur's hair in an idle and well-practiced motion. "Seems like little Johnny Marston's finally grown up."

Arthur had closed his eyes, leaned into her tender touch, but they shot open when she spoke and a scoff escaped him. "Christ, how long it take 'im? Dumb bastard should've asked her twelve goddamn years ago..."

"Shh. At least he's askin' her now. Don't go losin' your good humor on me, honey."

Arthur grumbled into the fabric of her shirt and shook his head. He knew she was right. He had to check himself, even now, all these years later; it was still just so easy to fall back into the old habit of being critical of John. Arthur had to remind himself where that hostility came from; it had always been like looking at a reflection of all his own mistakes and shortcomings, easier to criticize and pick apart when he could turn the lens on someone else instead of inwards on himself.

A good fifteen minutes later, Arthur felt a tap on his shoulder. He grunted, squinted and turned back to look. When he did, a weight came down on the crown of his head. He heard a raspy throat clearing behind him.

"I, uh...I kept this. Now I know you're alive, seems I should prob'ly give it back."

Arthur's eyes narrowed. He straightened up, removing one hand from Wilhelmina's waist to reach up and snatch the offending presence from off the top of his head. He caught sight of her sharp intake of breath, felt the old familiar leather of his father's gambler yield beneath his fingers, and suddenly whatever stupid shit he'd been mad about was a thousand miles away and long forgotten.

Willa slid off his lap to take a seat on the log beside him. His eyes flicked up to skim across the old peaks and valleys and the few stray bullet holes adorning the hat before he settled it back where John had first placed it and dipped his head.

Sadie and Charles both looked on, finally resigned to silence for the first time that night.

Arthur stood up. He raised his eyes to John, the muscles in his jaw working in the flickering orange glow from the campfire. An owl called off in the darkness somewhere beyond the house.

John blinked and took a step back. He was drunk, and honestly wasn't quite sure whether he was going to get a hug or a fist in his face.

"You sentimental bastard..." Arthur shadowed him with a forward step, closed the distance between them and put an end to John's suspense by pulling him into a firm hug. Arthur cleared his throat, sounding gruff. "Thank you, brother."

He took a step back and clapped John on the shoulder. "I, uh...heh." Arthur paused, chuckling awkwardly. He reached up to rub the back of his neck and then thought better of it and went to rummage for a cigarette instead, giving his hands something a bit more meaningful to do. "Guess I never would've expected you to hold on to it this long." He let his gaze drop as he fished for a match.

John slowly took on a look of incredulity. "You thought I'd get rid of it?"

Arthur blinked and realized how that must have sounded. He shook his head, tried to explain himself through the haze of his emotions. "No, no! Just...ya know, wit' all the movin' and runnin', I would've figured it just, I don't know...would've gotten lost somewhere along the way."

"Lot of things did get lost. I made sure that wasn't one of 'em."

Arthur had an indescribable feeling welling up in his chest; it was similar to what he'd experienced the day he'd married Wilhelmina. Like a feeling of gratitude so large, his feeble old body could do little to contain it; not that he _was_ feeble or all that old, but he still caught himself thinking those self-abasing things on rare occasions. He spread his hands at his sides loosely. "Thank you, John. I...ain't quite sure how to say it, I guess..."

A small smirk curled up one corner of John's mouth. It was reminiscent of that night all those years ago when they had gone to get Jack back from St. Denis; except this time, Arthur was the one muddling through his words. "I understand," John replied with a curt little nod. He fished in his pockets for his own pack of cigarettes.

Arthur suddenly remembered his own. He looked down at it for a moment, then decided to stuff it back into the pack. He still struck the match he'd produced though, holding the little flame up for John to light his cigarette with. "I, uh..." He cleared his throat again, waving the match out before tossing it over into the campfire. "You know I'll go with you into Blackwater, long as you say it's safe for us to show our faces. We gonna get that woman of yours a ring tomorrow. Meantime...well, I think that shine's hittin' me a bit harder in my old age than I care for."

Sadie scoffed from behind them. "Oh shut up, Arthur. We all know you just wanna take your woman to bed. She's been draped all over you for an hour now. I'll give you a piece of advice though, free of charge, since I'm such a good friend. Keep the hat on." She winked mischievously from across the campfire.

John chuckled, rolling his eyes. "Just don't be too loud. This sure as hell ain't one of our old camps, but Abbie still gets real pissed off if somethin' interrupts her beauty sleep."

Arthur dipped his head again, an enigmatic little smile curling up his mouth. "Sure, sure." He angled his head, looked down at Wilhelmina.

She'd just lit her own cigarette. She nodded up at her husband, acknowledging him with a soft smile. "I'll finish this and then be right behind you."

Arthur nodded and bid the rest of them goodnight before making his way up to the house.

John stood there a little awkwardly, smoking and wavering a bit on his feet. "Did I...I mean, that was..." He let out an exasperated sigh and looked over at Willa as she stood up. "Is he angry or somethin'?"

She scoffed gently and shook her head. She was pretty well-attuned to Arthur's moods at this point, knew him well enough by now to judge when he was just feeling a bit overwhelmed by things. This whole trip had been a leap of faith for him, in more ways than one. "'Course he ain't angry, John. Far from it." She took a drag from the cigarette, her gaze sliding over to Sadie. "And he _ain't_ just eager to get me into bed."

Willa looked to John again, handing over the bottle of whiskey to him. "He's doin' the same thing you are, John. He's just...workin' things out, is all. Anyway, do me a favor, would ya? Don't mention Micah to him just yet. He _is_ enjoyin' himself, and I don't wanna ruin that for him."

John frowned, glancing over at Sadie and Charles quickly before meeting Willa's gaze again. "We ain't...I mean, we ain't got nothin' solid yet, but...well, we thought-"

"I know what you think; that we'd jump on the chance to make the bastard eat lead for everything he did. But, just...now that I know about it, just let _me_ be the one to bring it up to him, okay? Arthur's tried real hard to put the past behind him, John. He wanted to come out here to spend time with his family and hopefully watch his best friend get married; not go runnin' head first into some fool's errand that could end in one or all of us killed."

"But everything that bastard _did,_ Willa...he tried to kill you! He _almost_ killed Arthur! Hell, he probably got Hosea and Lenny killed! And I _know_ he's _still_ out there killin' other folks!"

Willa took a drag from the cigarette, let the smoke plume from her nostrils and looked down as she toed a boot anxiously into the dry dirt. "I know perfectly well what he's probably out there doin', John. Just...just let me do it, okay? Let me talk to him about it. Please."

John huffed out a mouthful of smoke into the cool night air and shrugged ambivalently. "Fine. I ain't...well, I ain't told Abigail about it yet, either. So...all of you, keep that in mind, I guess..."

Willa scoffed and tossed the butt of her cigarette over into the fire. "So you know exactly what I'm talkin' about, then."

John's mouth quirked into something of a grimace, but he remained quiet.

"What about you, Willa? If we find out this gang that's been causin' so much trouble really _is_ Micah's gang? Would _you_ want to go after him?"

She turned her head to meet Charles' solemn stare from across the little campfire. She glanced at Sadie briefly. "I don't...know that I have an answer to that yet, Charles." Willa took a step backwards. "John, thank you for havin' us out here to stay with you. Truly. I'm gonna go find Arthur, make sure he ain't all caught up in his own head. I'll see you all in the mornin'." She nodded a goodnight and turned on her heel to go back to the house.

A few minutes passed in silence around the campfire, nothing to be heard but the crackling flames, the hooing of that owl, and the buzzing sounds of some night insects out in the grasses.

Finally, John let out a loud sigh and dropped his cigarette to crush it out under the heel of his boot. He grumbled a bit and exclaimed that he should probably try to sleep it off as well, if he and Arthur were going into Blackwater the following day.

Charles and Sadie sat by the fire in something of an awkward silence when it was just the two of them left. She took a swig from the bottle of shine, chuffing and shaking her head as she set it on the ground and then got to her feet. Her brows drew down, and for a split second, she looked almost confused. She turned and looked down at Charles. He'd put his harmonica away long ago, now sat just fiddling his fingers between his legs, looking drawn in the light of the fire.

"Well? You gonna come to bed with me?"

He looked up, helplessly watched her come closer until she stood astride one of his big legs. His nose was practically touching the buttons on her white blouse. He narrowed his eyes and angled his head to the side, sounding reticent. "I...don't know that I want to tonight, Sadie..."

She had already reached up to pull off the neckerchief tied around her neck. She stopped, slowly let her fingers drop from the fabric. This was the first time since they'd begun their little tryst that he'd turned her down. It was all very new and rather exciting, as they'd been keeping it a secret from Uncle and the Marstons; and what with Sadie out on her own hunting bounties most of the time, the brief nights they spent together were usually few and far between.

She inhaled a big breath and took a step back. "So you're done with me, then?"

Charles blinked, whipped his head up to look at her. "No, that's-"

"No, I get it," she said, interrupting him, a flash of anger like lightning behind her hazel eyes. "Tch...knew you'd get sick of me eventually. Just didn't think it'd be quite so soon," she finished in a petulant mumble.

Charles stood up and towered over her, though he did it unintentionally; she was just much smaller than he was. It was a good thing she was not easily intimidated; and truth be told, it was one of the things he very much liked about her. "That isn't what I'm tellin' you, Sadie. I just..." He huffed out a sigh, flexing his fists at his sides anxiously. "Just...tonight, having them two back, it's..."

She stood there, crossed her arms, looked up at him even as he cast his gaze away from her.

"I...told Arthur about Mika. Talked about everything that happened while I was up in Manitoba. It...it was alright, at first...this thing with us...but, Sadie, I..."

"For Christ's sake, just spit it out, Charles," Sadie pleaded. She sounded unusual, with her voice lowered. She cursed herself for sounding as hurt as she actually felt.

"Living here, with John and Abigail...having Arthur and Willa here, seeing how...how goddamn _happy_ they are..." Charles finally raised his eyes to her, spread his hands at his sides helplessly. "I don't want to be with a woman just because we're both lonely and miserable, Sadie. I don't know if this is just fun and games to you, but I..."

A pang of guilt hit her then. "But you ain't Jake. And I ain't Mika."

A grimace fell across his features.

"So that's it, then, is it?"

"That's...part of it, I suppose. Look, Sadie, I..." Charles sighed and scooped up her hands into his. He winced when he saw her stiffen up, though he should have been used to it by now; whenever he tried to be tender with her, it was like having a door slammed shut in his face. He swallowed thickly. "I know I'm not the kind of man you want. I know I'm not your husband. And I know you're not Mika. But if we aren't them, then...then we need to figure out what we _are_ , I guess is what I'm saying..."

Sadie sneered a little, looked down and away, a few strands of blonde hair falling across her forehead. She made no move to take her hands away from him, though. "I'm me 'n you're you, Charles. And we've changed. We both been through hell and back. I...I do _like_ havin' someone to keep me warm at night. I didn't think it was somethin' I'd ever want again, but..." She paused, looking up at him, the sneer worn off now, replaced with something raw and almost pained. "What you talkin' about, sayin' you ain't the kinda man I want?"

His brow furrowed. He dropped her hands and bent down to snatch the bottle of moonshine from off the ground. Taking a few steps past her, he crossed his arms and leaned back against one of the those big oak trees. He took a drink and then looked up at the sky. "You know what I'm talking about. Look at you. Look at _me._ It ain't... _decent."_

Sadie's jaw dropped. It took her a few moments to process what he was saying. And then the anger returned. "Christ's sake, Charles, you think I give a rat's ass about _decency!?_ I know you ain't that stupid! Just tell me I'm a fucked up, cold-hearted she-devil and be done with it! We both know that's what you're thinkin'!"

His gaze flicked back to her and he immediately pushed himself away from the tree, taken aback by her sudden outburst. "That's the furthest goddamn thing from what I'm thinking, Sadie!" He winced, huffed out a breath and checked the volume of his voice. "I remember when Arthur and Dutch brought you back to Colter. And at Horseshoe...I've never been the kind to strike up useless conversation just to fill the air with noise, but I _saw._ I _noticed._ And I...I regretted every single day that I did nothing to try and help lift that pain from you. But you...you're the strongest woman I ever met, do you understand that? When I came back to Shady Belle after that fucking bank robbery, _you_ were the one did the work of keepin' that gang together."

Sadie blinked, stunned into silence. She flexed her fists, felt her face getting red, angled her head down and away.

" _You_ were the one who stepped up. _You_ were the one tryin' to keep things together. _You_ were the one who saved Molly O'Shea from getting her goddamn head blown off, for whatever that's worth. And God forgive me, I think I might have loved you, even then...but seeing you again, having you the way we've been, I can't...I can't settle for just being a placeholder, or a distraction." He let out a shaky breath, reached up to run a hand through the thick hair pulled back over his shoulders. "I need something real, Sadie. And if you can't do that, then I need...I need whatever this is to be done."

Sadie's tongue darted out to wet her lips. Her mouth felt suddenly very dry. He'd brought up the word _love_ , and she hadn't been prepared for that. She knew how Charles was, knew he didn't enter into most anything lightly, _should_ have known something like this was coming, but she hadn't allowed herself to think about the consequences of their actions; of _her_ actions. She'd been the one initiated this whole thing, one very drunken night a few months back, only the second or third time she'd come out to visit Beecher's Hope.

As awful as it made her feel, sometimes she wished she could just forget about Jake altogether. He hadn't been perfect, they'd had their share of fights and she'd always hated the way he was just sort of _lazy_ when, living in the mountains as they were, they couldn't afford laziness. They'd been in debt. But she'd loved him, fiercely. And now here was another man, her friend, her _good_ friend, asking her if she could do that all over again.

"Goddamnit, Charles..." She moved up close to him, breaking the barrier they'd put up between them, placed her palms upon his broad chest. He'd just taken a bath that day, and he smelled clean and good. She wanted him, that was undeniable; he had always been a solid presence in their camps, a reassurance when she had felt at her wit's end back in Lakay; and when she'd found out he'd left with the Wapiti after the attack on the Cornwall oil refinery, it had stung to know she hadn't been able to say goodbye. He had always been one of the few men in Dutch's gang that she'd respected. He had always been honest and true. "You're too good for me..."

He narrowed his eyes, looked down at her hands on his chest. He nested the bottle of moonshine up into the spot where one of the tree's branches met its trunk and then covered her hands with his own. "No, I'm not. I'm a fool. A fool who never felt like he belonged anywhere until I joined up with that gang. Willa and I were...sort of the same in that regard, I suppose." He sighed. "I care about you, Sadie. Very much. And being out here with John and Abigail, it makes me think. Makes me think about what I want, what I lost...and I know you think about it, too."

She finally looked up into his dark eyes and nodded faintly. "I do."

"So...?"

"So...please take me to bed, Charles. I ain't sure what I feel yet, I'll be honest with you. But I know...I know bein' with you makes my brain quiet down for a bit. Makes things feel...a little bit better. Is that...can that be good enough for right now?"

His mouth quirked. Well, it wasn't a no, which was what he'd been afraid of. He could not deny her. Sadie Adler was a force unto herself and, like a fool, he had found himself very suddenly swept up in her wake. He bent down and gathered her up very easily into his arms. "I suppose it has to be," he replied as he carried her over to his tent. "Since you've figured out my secret."

"And what secret would that be?" she asked as she looked one arm around his neck.

"I don't think I truly have it in me to say no to you, Sadie."

She blinked, and then hid a small smirk into his shoulder as he ducked in under the tent flaps.


	42. Epilogue Part IV - Beecher's Hope iii

Wilhelmina was awake early the next morning, earlier than anyone else in the house. She'd had trouble sleeping the night before. When she'd left the others and come into the guest room, she found Arthur just sitting on the bed, his suspenders pulled down around his waist, staring at his old hat. His eyes had looked a bit red-rimmed. They'd talked for a long time after that.

She hadn't been able to bring up Micah. Arthur was far too caught up in everything that had happened that day, had far too many feelings running through him; not to mention too much booze. She supposed that one had naturally led to the other, though she wasn't quite sure which had started things off. She had discovered fairly early on that Arthur Morgan was not entirely the man he presented himself to be; he was thoughtful, emotional, and deeply introspective. And when he got drunk, those things started showing up in spades.

So she'd coaxed him into telling her all about how weirdly happy and sad it made him to see that old hat again, and how John Marston was a sentimental little shit (and so was he), and how he didn't know how to repay that kind of overwhelming gratitude he felt. She told him he'd already paid for it that night eight years ago when he made sure John got out of Beaver Hollow and away from the Pinkertons.

And when they'd finally tried to go to sleep, she'd tossed and turned, torn between waking thoughts of Micah Bell and fuzzy, undefined nightmares full of him and her long-dead brother. Needless to say, she was up and about very early, scrounging around the Marstons' kitchen looking for coffee and a percolator with which to brew it in.

Once she finally had a hot cup in her hands, she made her way outside onto the porch with the interest of watching the sun rise. She dragged the rocking chair Uncle had passed out in the night before forward and took a seat, throwing her legs up onto the porch railing and sipping the hot coffee.

A sound off to the left caught her attention, and she angled her head to have a look; it didn't sound like an animal, but rather one of the people camped outside stirring and maybe getting ready to start the day. The sky was just starting to brighten, so she could see well enough in the gray light of the morning. She saw a blonde mop of hair emerging from one of the tents, and almost called out to say hello when something else made her choke on her words; another body was climbing out of the tent just behind Sadie, and when she leaned into Charles for a quick parting kiss, Wilhelmina thought her jaw might have fallen into her lap.

They didn't see her over on the porch, and she felt like some kind of naughty voyeur for watching, but she couldn't help it; neither of them had spoken a single word that even hinted towards the fact that they were _involved_ with each other in some way. Willa felt a pang of hurt that Sadie hadn't mentioned it to her the night before. She watched as Sadie made her way over to what was presumably her own tent to catch a few more hours of sleep. Her gaze moved back and she caught Charles looking around, stretching his large frame before their eyes locked. He stared at her for a moment, looking somewhat torn, before gracing her with a small nod and then disappearing back into his tent.

"Huh..." Willa sat there for a long time, watched the sun rise over the prairie, refilled her cup, and smoked a few cigarettes before she heard people in the house starting to stir. She stood up and went back inside when she heard Abigail chirping about how there was coffee already made. Willa went in and helped her get a big breakfast started.

Arthur and John were both a little late in waking up, but when they finally did they were both eager for a greasy breakfast to help quell their hangovers. Willa put another pot of coffee on to brew, eyeing Jack as he made his way outside with Rufus, a book still clutched in one of his hands.

"Would it be alright if I, uh...well, if I ask Jack to go fishin' wit' me later on?" Arthur glanced back and forth between John and Abigail a little demurely.

John snorted, lifting up the cup he held. "You're welcome to try. Kid doesn't seem to like to do much other than read those books of his and keep company with that damn dog."

Abigail shot him a nasty look and beamed at Arthur from over her now empty plate. "I think you should, Arthur. It'd be good for him to spend some time with you. Lord knows he spends more time with us than he likes..."

Willa's mouth quirked a little bit as she began clearing away their empty plates, looking thoughtful. Sadie came in not long after, a whirlwind as usual, pouring herself a cup of coffee and grabbing up a few scraps of food from the pans that still littered the cook stove. She told them she was off again for the day, had a bounty she needed to chase down somewhere between Strawberry and Owanjila.

John glanced up at her. "I won't be able to go with you today, Sadie. If you're lookin' for a partner, maybe Charles will go with you?"

She eyed him over a piece of toast. "Thanks for the concern, John, but I'll be just fine. Only reason I asked you to help out was 'cause I knew you needed the money."

John scoffed. "That hurts me, Sadie. You don't want me around for my wit and charmin' company?"

"Wouldn't exactly call it _charmin_ ', Marston," Sadie snorted in reply. She drained the last of her coffee, plopped the cup down in the sink and made her way past them, giving John a friendly clap on the shoulder to show she was only joking with him. She scooped up her hat and heavy jacket from the hook by the door and told them she'd probably be back later into the evening as long as nothing went awry.

Charles came in with Uncle just behind him as she was about to head out the door. They almost bumped into each other, and Willa caught the little look that passed between them before they nodded hellos to each other and passed like ships in the night. She chewed her lip thoughtfully as the men got to talking. "Can I bring a plate out to Jack? I don't think he ate anything before he went outside."

"Please do. I'm gonna get started on these dishes," Abigail replied as she stood and began rolling up the sleeves of her blouse.

"Jack should be doin' them dishes." John stood up and stretched, grimacing as he heard a few of his joints pop. "I gotta go take care of the animals. Arthur, you still up for a trip into town when I'm done?"

Arthur glanced over at John and nodded his head. "Sure. Even better, I'll help you with them chores."

John shook his head. "You ain't gotta do that, Arthur. You two are here on vacation."

Arthur chuckled as he stood up from the table. "Hell, Marston, we're stayin' in your guest room, eatin' your food, soakin' up your hospitality. I do this shit every day back home, no reason I can't help you out with it while we're here."

Willa stepped aside to let Uncle and Charles get plates of food, and then she got busy using what was left to make up a plate for Jack. Arthur came up to her and pressed a kiss to her temple before he and John made their way outside, talking amiably all the while.

"I've gotta get out and do a bit of hunting today if we're going to keep all of us fed while you two are here. What do you say, Willa? Wanna come along, for old time's sake?"

Willa turned with the plate she'd put together, a little half-smile gracing her freckled features. "Why, I'd love to, Charles. I'm gonna bring this out to Jack while you get some breakfast into you, and then we can gear up."

He gave her a nod, prolonged their eye contact for just a moment, and then set to work on his food.

Willa understood what went unsaid well enough; it wasn't to be _just_ a hunting trip. She said good morning to Uncle and chatted with him for a few minutes before leaving the house to go and find young Jack. It didn't take long, he was right outside, sat underneath one of those big oaks by the campfire, Rufus curled up beside him. He had his nose in that book, one hand absently rubbing behind one of the lab's ears.

Willa cleared her throat as she walked over so as not to startle the boy, flashing him a little smile when he looked up.

"Oh. Hi there, Miss Willa." He eyed the plate of food she carried before rather reluctantly folding over the corner of the page he was on and closing the book.

"Hey, Jack. Noticed you didn't get any breakfast yet. Thought I'd bring some out for you." She bent down to hand the plate to him, along with a fork, before taking a seat beside him on the grass.

"Thank you." He poked at the eggs a few times before scooping some up.

"So. What are you reading?"

He glanced over, a little wary, swallowed the mouthful he'd taken. "Well, I just finished a book about King Arthur...and this one, I think it's kind of new, it's uh...it's about the French Revolution. Sort of."

Her brows went up in surprise. "What's it called?"

"The Scarlet Pimpernel. It's...well, it's probably kind of boring. Ma and pa think most of what I read is pretty boring, anyway..."

Willa chuckled as she reached down to give Rufus a good rub. "I read it. I didn't think it was boring at all."

He blinked, paused on his way to bring the fork back up to his mouth. "You did?"

Willa nodded, smiling a sort of secret smile at Jack. "Yeah. My horse, the big silver boy over there? His name's Percy. I was so enthralled with that book, I named him after Percy Blakeney."

Jack glanced over at the stallion milling about off by himself on one side of the fence, and then couldn't help but smile. He seemed to loosen up once he found out she had an interest in books as well.

It had been hard for him, trying to gauge how his parents felt about his pastime. On the one hand, Abigail encouraged him to no end, wanted him to grow up to be a lawyer or something of the like; he'd been slowly trying to teach his mother to read, but she got frustrated very quickly and her temper almost always ended up flaring before they got through so much as a chapter. On the other hand, John oscillated between reluctantly agreeing with her, and then griping when he expressed little to no interest in things like fishing and learning how to shoot. His father tried to take interest in his books, but it usually ended with John complaining about how the boy's head was too far up in the clouds.

They gushed for a little bit about the book, how Jack was fascinated with the idea of Sir Percy Blakeney living two distinctly different lives, secretly being a hero to the French aristocracy while playing the effete buffoon back home in England. Willa loved the romance of it, but she didn't want to tell Jack too much about what happened with Percy and his wife and their swashbuckling adventure; he hadn't finished the book yet, after all. She promised him she'd lend him her copy of The Merry Adventures of Robin Hood once he'd finished.

She caught sight of Arthur over inside the fence, lugging out bales of hay for the horses, and gave him a little wave. Her and Jack went back up to the house when he was done with his breakfast, and she went off to the guest room to grab her gun belt and a few supplies for the trip with Charles. They spoke for a moment when she came out and agreed they were ready to go, and so they headed outside to saddle up their mounts.

Thankfully, Arthur had thought enough ahead to bring his rifle with him; otherwise, all she had worth using to hunt was a bow, and if it was big game they were going to be after, Willa preferred a weapon more likely to take an animal out in one clean shot. After she'd gotten Percy saddled up and checked the wound on his hindquarters, she went to go find Arthur to ask if she could take the rifle with her. She peeked into the barn and saw John seated just inside one of the stalls, milking the cow. Continuing on, she spotted her husband at the chicken coop just around the back, tossing out feed for the birds.

"Hey there, cowboy. Got a favor to ask you."

Arthur looked over, readjusting the sack of grain he held under one arm. A warm smile spread across his face, as it always did when she came into his line of sight. "And what would that be, darlin'?"

She asked him about the gun, and he acquiesced easily, told her to be careful and planted a kiss on her forehead, and then a tap on her behind when she turned to walk away. She smirked and glanced back over her shoulder, threw him a little two-finger salute. She didn't tell him what she'd seen that morning; she wanted to wait and hear what Charles had to say. Based on the fact that Sadie hadn't mentioned anything to her, she guessed no one else knew about it.

She grabbed the rifle from where Aster's tack was stashed beside the barn and stowed it at Percy's side. Charles had already opened the gate, so she mounted up and guided the horse out through. He caught up with her a minute later, let her know they wanted to circle out behind the house to the south and then west, out into the plains.

They urged the horses into a steady gallop once they were off the property, heading out into the rolling hills and dusty grasslands of the Great Plains.

"So what are we lookin' for!?" She yelled across the short distance between them so Charles would hear her over the sound of their horses' pounding hooves.

"Pronghorn! These plains are full of game! It's good hunting out here!"

They rode on for some time until Charles brought them to the crest of a large hill and pulled up on the reins, slowing his horse to a stop and turning to retrieve a pair of binoculars from his saddlebags. "There's so little tree cover out here, it makes spotting game plenty easy. Only thing is, they can spot us - and smell us - just as well. I see you brought a rifle. Got a scope on it?"

Wilhelmina nodded as she reached down to retrieve the gun from where it was holstered at Percy's side. "Sure does."

Charles scanned the rolling hills laid out beneath them, pointed a finger off toward their right. "Bison down there. You ever get to see any?"

She blinked. "No." She brought Percy up close when Charles offered the binoculars out to her, set the rifle across her lap and put them up to her face to bring the little dots way down in the prairie into closer view. They were bulky animals, big and passive down there in the open country. A whole herd of them milling about, eating from the grasses and flicking their tails idly. "Jesus...Charles, those things are enormous! Should we go after one?"

"No. I leave them alone. It's a lot of work to dress them, and I have a...sort of fondness for them. Bison and buffalo. They're sacred to a lot of tribes. We'll take a couple Pronghorn and that should be just fine."

Wilhelmina watched the bison for a few more moments before she handed the binoculars back to Charles. She chewed her lip, wondering which one of them was going to bring it up first.

"Ah, I see some. Down there, off to the south. Come on. You can set up at the edge of this hill and you'll have a clear shot." He threw the lanyard around his neck to let the binoculars hang and slid down out of the saddle. "You take the first one, then when the rest of the herd scatters we should be able to follow."

She nodded and grabbed up the rifle, followed his lead as he crouched at the edge of the rise. She knelt down and laid on the grass on her belly, placed the butt of the rifle against her shoulder and peered down through the scope. The herd was far away from them, but she trained her sights on a good-sized buck with his head held high, on alert for any predators that could threaten the rest of the herd.

The shot rang out like a thunderclap through the plains. The buck dropped into the grass and the rest of the herd scattered, bleating in fright and tearing off out of view. A faint smile crossed Charles' features. "Good shot. Let's go get him."

They mounted back up and galloped off down the hill to collect the animal. Charles helped her get the buck up onto Percy's back and they used a good length of rope to strap it down. They could dress the animal once they got back to Beecher's Hope. Percy stamped and nickered a little indignantly at the offending weight, but after a bit he settled down. Willa rubbed his neck, whispered some soothing words to him. "I know, I know. I'm sure you miss Magnolia somethin' fierce, huh, big boy?"

Charles watched her, a sort of wistful look coming over him. He glanced down, scuffed at the grass with his boot. "So...things are good in Vermont?"

She smiled, still breathing a bit heavy from the exertion of moving the dead pronghorn. She took a step to the side so that she could see Charles from around Percy's large head. "Yes. Things are real good, Charles. You know, I was just tellin' Sadie last night, if you ever wanna get out of here, we got plenty of good land up there. Quiet, right up near the border. We got a stable, we're right on a beautiful lake..."

Charles scoffed softly and spread his hands at his sides. "I, um...I don't know that me and Sadie would be looking to get anywhere _together_ , but..."

Wilhelmina blinked. "Oh- _Oh._ Well I didn't...I just meant...I mean, I didn't know..."

Charles cleared his throat, finally gracing her with a somewhat amused glance as he retrieved his pipe from the pocket of his vest. "It's...complicated." He tamped out the old ashes so that he could pack it with fresh tobacco from a pouch he pulled from the same pocket.

Wilhelmina shifted on her feet, twisting Percy's reins in one hand. "Do...do you want to talk about it? The two of you, separating like that so early...kinda makes me think nobody else knows about it..."

He hummed in agreement as he tucked the pouch away again and gently packed the tobacco down with a thumb. "You'd be right about that."

She chewed her lip, glanced over at Percy briefly before dropping his reins to let him meander. She took a seat right there in the grass and reached into her satchel for her own rolling materials. "Okay."

Charles' brow went up in mild surprise. "Right now? What about the pronghorn-?"

"We got one already. That'll last us a week, easy. Ain't this more important?" She glanced up from the half-rolled cigarette in her hands. "Charles, you and Sadie...the three of us and Abigail, all the bullshit we dealt with back in Lakay...you know it was the two of you that kept her and me from fallin' apart altogether. The both of you saved my life, Charles. The both of you have saved Arthur's life. The two of you deserve to have somethin' _good_."

"I abandoned all of you..."

"You did what you thought was right. You did what I was tryin' to get _everybody_ to do."

He'd settled himself onto the ground just beside her, struck a match off his boot to light the pipe and took a few good puffs to make sure the flame had caught. "That doesn't make it any better. I shouldn't have left you the way I did."

She furrowed her brows. "You think Sadie feels like that? Like you abandoned us?" She stared at him as she brought the cigarette up to lick the paper and seal it shut.

"I...don't know. Maybe. She doesn't exactly tell me how she feels." Charles drew his legs up and rested his elbows on his knees, looked off over the edge of the hill. "I think I'm in love with her...last night I just about said as much."

Wilhelmina tossed away the match she'd used to light her cigarette. "And what did she say...?"

Charles shrugged his shoulders, glanced over at her. "Not much. Nothing to...dissuade me, I guess, but..." He sighed, reaching up to pinch the bridge of his nose. "I don't know. I feel like a fool. I feel like I don't deserve her. I can't heal those old wounds of hers. And...and I'm scared that she's set herself on this path...bounty hunting is dangerous business, Willa. We both know that. And you know how reckless she can be."

"I know," she said with a sigh. "But Charles, it's been eight years. It ain't your responsibility to heal her wounds. Those are memories that ain't gonna be changed. You can't compare yourself to whatever she had before." Willa took a drag from her cigarette, chewed her lip for a moment. "You know, she's the one who told me; you gotta take happiness where you can get it, 'cause there's no tellin' what'll happen. If she makes you happy, and you wanna hold on to that, then you gotta fight for it."

Charles looked over at her very seriously, twisting the bowl of his pipe between his thumb and fingers. "But I can't be the only one fighting for it. Last night, I tried. I tried to tell her I need more, need something serious. But she's...well, you know. She's become so much of that tough exterior she puts off, I feel like _she_ has a hard time getting past it, let alone letting anyone else past."

Wilhelmina nodded. "I know. But you're a good man, Charles, and she knows that. She may be tough, but she ain't blind. Hell, Arthur and me...it was similar in a lot of ways. You know, we had a bad fight before you boys went off to rob that bank in St. Denis. We were hard on each other. I guess, 'cause that was all either of us was used to being. And then they disappeared, and you saw how I was. I went crazy thinkin' he might have been dead and the last memory he had of me was...well, nothin' good."

Charles furrowed his brows as he sucked on the pipe.

"My point is, I get it. And maybe she just needs some more time. How long's this thing with you two been goin' on?"

Charles shrugged. "A few months. Not long after the first time she showed up to visit."

She quirked her mouth, gave him a sidelong expression as she took another drag from the cigarette and let the smoke plume from her nose. "I know it probably feels like a goddamn whirlwind right now. But...that's still pretty fresh, Charles. Be patient for a bit longer."

She butted the cigarette out on the sole of her boot, tossed it into the grass and got to her feet. "You know, you would be good for her. She needs somebody to remind her when she's gettin' reckless. She needs somethin' to keep her from _wantin_ ' to be reckless."

He scoffed softly as he levered himself to his feet. "I'm trying not to act like a mother hen. But...the longer this goes on, the harder it gets."

Wilhelmina snickered in a good-natured way and nodded. "You and Arthur would have an understanding there. All those times I wanted to go after my brother, he was right there, tellin' me how stupid it was to try and go it alone. Until he wasn't. But you know how that panned out."

Charles remembered very well going with Arthur to clear out Beaver Hollow and finding her there, half-dead in a cage and out of her mind on laudanum. "I do. No need to bring up any of those memories. Anyway, we _should_ try to bag one more of those Pronghorn to bring back with us. And, uh...thank you. For talking with me about all of this. Feels a bit better to get some of it off my chest."

They spent a few more hours that day tracking down that herd of Pronghorn, finally found them a half a mile or so south of where Willa had shot the first one. Charles bagged them a doe, a bit smaller than the buck she had taken, but with the two animals combined, they'd have plenty of meat to keep everyone fed with.

They strapped the animal to the back of Charles' horse, ate a quick lunch from some food he'd grabbed back at the house, and then headed back. Most of the ride was silent and contemplative, and it gave WIlhelmina the opportunity to wonder if she should try to talk to Sadie about their situation. She didn't want to butt in where she wasn't needed or wanted, but she'd never seen Charles this pensive in such a way before. She desperately wanted this thing to work out for the two of them. They deserved it.

But Charles was right; Sadie was still as hardened as she had been in the last bad days of the gang, still less than a year after she'd lost her husband and been forced to completely redefine the terms of her life. She'd done admirably, no one would argue that, but Willa worried and wondered if she'd closed her heart off too much. She had called herself a monster. Did she really still believe that, even now, eight years later?

"Charles?"

"Hm?" He looked over at her from the few feet that separated their horses.

"I been thinkin' about it. I wonder...do you think she's just scared? I know you told her last night how you were feelin', but maybe she's havin' a hard time believin' it. When _I_ was talkin' to her last night, she was still callin' herself a monster. Like...like she thinks no one _could_ love her. Like it's impossible."

He was silent for a few moments. "I can't say I haven't thought about that, either. What the O'Driscolls did to her, it was...well, like a nightmare she's never been able to wake up from. She decimated the rest of that gang practically bare-handed. And, from what she's told me, the way she almost lost you and Arthur there at the end...seems like she's set on tracking down Micah for the same reasons."

Willa scowled. "Yeah...I gotta admit, I ain't sure about all that, Charles. Ain't gonna lie, I'm hoping her leads turn out to be nothing."

Charles looked over again. "I understand where you're coming from, but I'm also worried. If she's right, if he _is_ in the area...what if he finds out John and Abigail have settled out here? If he finds out about _any_ of us, for that matter? What if he finds out you and Arthur are still alive," he continued with a more pointed look.

She blinked, angled her gaze back over at him as she shifted in the saddle. "You really think he'd come after us?"

He shrugged. "I certainly wouldn't rule out the possibility. He was always a vindictive bastard."

She found that possibility very unsettling. "I still haven't brought it up to Arthur yet, but..." She sighed, let go of the reins with one hand to reach up and pinch the bridge of her nose. "That is a troubling thought."

Charles nodded. "It's something worth considering."

They reached the southern edge of John's property later in the afternoon. They rode in through the break in the fence, guided the horses around the side of the house. John's wagon was there, which meant he and Arthur had most likely gone to Blackwater and come back already while they had been out.

"What the hell do you mean, you _hid!?"_

Charles and Willa looked at each other as they approached the front porch and heard John's raspy voice raised. They saw him there just under the eave, towering over Uncle with his fists clenched tightly at his sides. Arthur came out the front door a second later, looking pale, his features drawn and tightly worried.

"John, what's going on?" Charles quickly dismounted, jogging over to the bottom of the porch steps.

John barely turned away from Uncle, gracing Charles with the briefest of fiery glances. "We just got back from Blackwater and this goddamn _useless old bastard's_ standin' up here, wringin' his hands, tellin' me...tellin' me..." John couldn't even finish the sentence. Before anyone could do anything, he turned and kicked the porch balustrade beside him so hard that the wood cracked under the force of it.

" _John!_ Calm the hell down!" Arthur grabbed him roughly by the bicep and flung him towards the wall of the house, away from Uncle. "You ain't helpin' nothin' gettin' pissed off at the old man! If he hadn't hid, _we'd_ never have known what happened to 'em!"

"What happened to _who!?"_ Willa was standing beside Charles now, looking back and forth between the men, trying very hard to ignore the feeling of her chest tightening up in terror.

John immediately turned and slammed his fist into the wall of the house. Arthur winced and turned away from him, glancing over at Uncle quickly before he answered. "Abigail and Jack-"

"What!?"

Arthur put his hands out placatingly, glanced back at John and then wiped his mouth nervously with a shaky hand. He grimaced. Cast his gaze away. "Uncle said he thinks it was Micah..."

 _"What!?"_ This time it was both Willa and Charles replying. They whipped their heads to look at each other. It had been something they'd only just been talking about, a possibility they'd both hoped to be only paranoid conjecture.

Uncle took a step forward. "Now, Arthur, it _was_ Micah! You think I'd forget a voice belonged to a no-good scoundrel like that!? And he _said_ John's name! _And_ Sadie's!"

Charles' face became a mask of ill-contained rage. His fists clenched at his sides. "What did they do!?"

John turned away from the wall. "I _knew_ we should've gone after him as soon as Sadie mentioned it! I don't care how fuckin' long it would have taken to find him," John spat as he shoved past Arthur and marched down the steps. " _We should have fuckin' taken care of it!"_


	43. Epilogue Part V - Quaker's Cove & Beyond

Wow, hi, so here we are. I'm so so sorry to anyone who's been waiting patiently for this update to finally happen. Major writer's block/real life/working on other projects/fear of how the hell I was even going to end this thing all kept me going at a snail's pace. I just want to say thank you to everyone who's read this and enjoyed it and taken the time to leave me comments, I appreciate every single one of you from the bottom of my lil cowgirl heart. **Thank you!**

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* * *

"Everyone shut up!" Charles barked as he stalked over to the porch and up the steps to tower over Uncle. "Tell us what happened. Everything. From the beginning."

"W-well, I was out in the shed, rootin' through the drawers lookin' for a hammer to help Abigail fix a busted chair. I heard horses comin' up the drive 'n figured it was one of you all," Uncle said as he worried his hands together, eyes darting back and forth between the three of them. "But, but...it was a whole _lotta_ horses. _Gallopin_ ' up the drive."

"How many," Charles asked through gritted teeth. Arthur came up and clapped him on the shoulder, wordlessly telling him that he needed to calm down a bit before he moved past to descend the stairs and take Wilhelmina into his arms.

She looked up at Arthur and placed her hand on his chest, grim and drawn in the waning heat of the afternoon.

"Ain't too sure, think I heard maybe...maybe five or six different voices. I ducked behind the wall and peeked out once or twice to try 'n see who it was, but...well, before I knew it, they was bangin' at the front door and there was just a gaggle of mounts standin' out in the yard. And that's when I heard old Micah Bell. And...and _that's_ when I gone and hid under the workbench."

John came back from the side of the house at that moment, armed to the teeth with a second holstered revolver at his belt and a rifle slung over his shoulder. He had a lasso in one hand and Charles' hatchet in the other. "We gotta go-"

"Now hold on just a goddamn second, Marston," Arthur tugged his way out of Wilhelmina's arms and stalked over to John. "We gotta stop and _think_ about this!"

 _"What's there to think about, Arthur!?"_

 _"We don't even know where the hell they went!"_ He couldn't help raising his voice to match the younger man as he yanked the hatchet from John's hand forcefully.

Charles ignored them in favor of continuing to interrogate Uncle. "What did he say? About John and Sadie? What did they do, did they say where they were going!?"

"H-he said he knew Sadie's been askin' around about him. S-said he was gonna take care of her. Of all of 'em. Said he knew if he took Abigail 'n the boy, John would come runnin'."

"Did he say anything about us?" Wilhelmina turned her attention from Arthur and John, took a step towards the porch.

Uncle glanced over at her, shook his head. "No. At least, not that I heard." He looked back up at Charles before taking a step back from the big man to plop down in the chair Wilhelmina had watched the sunrise in. He reached up to scrub the gin blossoms that decorated his nose and his cheeks, looking very weary and old all of a sudden. "One fella asked when they was 'goin' up to the mountain.' Micah said 'not yet. Not til this business is done.'"

Charles ran a hand back over his hair. He turned around, planted his hands on his hips. He looked down at the porch for a few moments, and then made his way very purposefully down the steps and into the dirt. He kept looking down, very focused, walked a bit further. "Lots of prints. We might...we might be able to track them. At least figure out what direction they rode before the sun gets too low."

John and Arthur both looked over at him. Arthur took a few steps in Charles' direction. "Yeah? 'Cause if we can follow...I mean, Christ, I don't know what we're gonna do when we get there, but if he don't know about me 'n Willa, we _might_ have a chance..."

John slung the lasso over his arm, took the rifle into his hands. "I can tell you _exactly_ what we're gonna do when we get there," he replied with extreme menace as he drew back the pin on the gun and cocked it.

"Some blood out here too," Charles continued, ignoring John, kneeling down and focusing on the minute splatter that dotted the rutted horseshoe tracks littering the yard. "Not much, though."

John's sneer darkened his features even more. He reached up to yank down the brim of his hat as he turned and strode off toward the horses. "What are you all waitin' for!? _Let's ride!"_

 _..._

Abigail's lashes fluttered. She groaned as her head rolled back on her shoulders. Pain threaded its way through her jaw and down into her neck with the movement. Wherever they were, it was dark. A single lantern in the corner threw off a bit of murky light, and her eyes slowly adjusted to it.

"Abi."

Abigail squeezed her eyes shut and blinked slowly, tasted blood in her mouth, tried to puzzle out what had happened.

 _"Abigail."_

"Mm?" She mumbled, trying to focus her sight. She rolled her head to the side to see who was whispering her name.

Jack was there, tied up. Her boy. Her eyes widened when she saw his face; even in the dim light she could see he was bruised up and bloody. "Jacky," she whispered, trembling.

 _"Abigail!"_ Sadie hissed from his other side.

Her eyes finally met Sadie's. She didn't look much better. A split above her left eye had left a trail of blood down the curve of her cheek. Her cornflower hair was frazzled, half-pulled out of the tight plait she normally kept it in. There was some blood matted in it, too. "Sadie...?"

It was coming back to her now. The loud, incessant banging on the front door. The ugly voices of several men outside her house. Trying to gather Jack, trying to bustle him somewhere to hide before the door burst open and those men were on them like vicious dogs let loose. Seeing _him,_ though he'd gone mostly gray and harbored a nasty scar that had closed up one eye for good and all. _Micah._

"Abigail, wake up. Get your shit together, honey. We gotta figure some things out real quick, 'cause I ain't sure we got a lot of time."

Abigail swallowed thickly, finally tried to move and found about what she'd expected; she couldn't. "Sadie. Y-You know where we are?"

"No. Fuckers put a sack over my goddamn head. Thinkin' I heard a boat go by earlier, though. A big one. Steamer, maybe."

Abigail furrowed her brows. Her brain felt like it was buzzing. "A boat...?"

"There's, uh...sounds a little like seagulls outside, too," Jack muttered.

Abigail could hear the cracks in his voice. Her boy was terrified and she could feel that terror, compounding on top of her own.

 _"Shh-shut up,"_ Sadie hissed as footsteps and voices came near. A door at the side of the room swung open and silhouetted two figures.

"Well, well. They's awake. What you wanna do with 'em, boss?"

"Nothin' just yet," Micah replied as he sauntered across the threshold and squatted down beside Abigail, setting the lantern he carried down upon the floor. He grabbed her chin with one hand, angled her head up forcefully to make her look at him. "Hello again, sweet thing."

 _"Don't you touch her, you fuckin' pig,"_ Sadie gritted through her teeth as she squirmed against the ropes that bound her.

Micah shot her a dagger-sharp glare over his shoulder with his one good eye, his mouth curling down in a sneer. "Kindly shut the fuck up, Mrs. Adler," he huffed out with a smooth breath before turning his attention back to Abigail. "Marston's little family here needs to keep til he arrives, but you? Heh heh, well, I could put a bullet between your eyes any time now."

"Just try it, you bastard, I'll still rip your throat out with my _goddamn teeth!"_ she hissed, pushing herself forward towards him vehemently, but ineffectually.

Micah just chuckled and shook his head. "Goddamn fire ain't burned out at all in that one, huh?" He held Abigail's gaze, smirked under the bristles of his mustache. "Maybe I'll save her for last. She can watch all the friends she's got left die in agony. What you think about that, Miss Roberts?"

"Micah." She wiggled a bit, gave him a pleading look, her lip curling back from her teeth. "Micah, let Jack go, _please_. Let the boy go, he ain't done _nothin',_ he ain't involved in any of this!"

Micah's brows went up in an ugly and insincere gesture of shock. "I'm just tyin' up loose ends, is all. I intend to _keep_ that money, sweet thing."

 _"What_ money!?"

"The goddamn _Blackwater money,_ you stupid _whore_ ," Micah hissed, catching her by the hair at the back of her head and yanking hard.

 _"Ma!"_

"Shut up, pipsqueak," Micah spit at the boy while Abigail reeled in front of him.

Sadie grunted, continued to struggle against her bindings. She scraped her spurs against the wooden floorboards and spit in Micah's general direction.

The other man who'd come in with Micah lunged at her, retracting one foot and giving her a swift and nasty kick somewhere just above her hip. Sadie wheezed and curled up on the ground, but she found the wherewithal to raise her eyes to him all the same. "You're gonna regret that," she grunted, "you stupid bastard."

Micah got to his feet, planted his hands on his hips just above his two holsters and swept his leering gaze over the three of them. He chuckled low. "I must admit, Abigail, I always knew that man of yours didn't have no brains-"

A gunshot from outside cut him off; he and his lackey both whipped their heads in the direction of the sound. "Ah. Speak of the devil!" He swept forward, yanking a hunting knife from his belt and grabbing Jack by his collar with the other hand. He cut through the rope that bound the boy's ankles and hauled Jack up off the ground roughly.

 _"Jack!"_ Abigail screamed and struggled, tears streaming down her face in the flickering light of the lanterns.

"Stay here 'n watch 'em," Micah hissed at his cohort as he dragged Jack out through the door they had come in by.

A volley of several more gunshots cut through the night outside as Abigail hung her head and sobbed, Sadie keeping her murderous gaze glued to the man left to watch them.

Micah pushed Jack down the wooden pier, holding the boy in front of him as a human shield. He spied a few bodies littering the shoreline of Quaker's Cove and barked out a mirthless laugh, sheathed the knife back at his hip in favor of brandishing one of his prized six shooters. "Hello, scarface! Why don't you come out where I can see you!" He cocked the revolver and pushed the barrel up against Jack's head.

The boy whimpered quietly, angling his head away from the gun as much as he could. His eyes scanned the darkness frantically for any sign of his father. He wanted to call out, but he was terrified Micah might just shoot him if he did.

"Let the boy go, Micah!" John's gravelly voice issued from the darkness before he appeared on the shore, a darker shadow against the night. "It's me you want, ain't it?"

"It's _all_ of you I want, John!"

"The boy ain't done nothin'. He was never a part of this," John called as he put his empty hands up in the air and took a few steps closer. "I do got a question, though."

Micah cocked an eyebrow. With the boy at his mercy, he felt he could be a bit indulgent. "And I'd love to give you an answer, Marston."

"How'd you find us?"

Micah erupted in a low chuckle. "When my boys and I went back to Blackwater for the money, we thought we'd break into the West Elizabeth Co-Operative Bank while we was at it. And wouldn't you know, I was plum surprised to see John Marston's name written plain as day on a land deed sittin' right atop some fella's desk. Like it was just waitin' there for me," he said with a wolfish grin. "Now! Come on out, Morgan! I know you're out here somewhere!" He jostled the boy, pushed the barrel of his six shooter back up against Jack's head. "You and that bitch of yours better get out here, or I _will_ blow young Jack's brains clear to Armadillo!"

Arthur cursed from his spot atop one of the embankments that overlooked the cove. He'd taken up position as a sniper after they'd plowed through Micah's lookouts, but didn't dare try to take Micah himself out in the dark of the night while the bastard had Jack right there. Willa and Charles had split off to sneak down towards the other end of the pier to get to Abigail and Sadie, who were presumably being held hostage in the shack Micah'd come out of.

John clenched his jaw, had to try his damnedest not to glance back to where he knew Arthur was hiding. If he could take the shot, they could put an end to this. John didn't know if Arthur would try, though; maybe best to keep the boy's safety in mind. And hope that Wilhelmina and Charles would find Abigail alive.

Micah bared his teeth, searching the dark shoreline with his eyes. A few lanterns hung from pilings posted at intervals along the little jetty, but otherwise the only light provided came from the moon that had risen somewhere behind him. "You think I'm jokin', cowpoke!?"

"No. No, I don't think you're jokin', you miserable sack of shit," Arthur's voice, sounding sharp and yet reticent and nearly defeated, cut through from up on the embankment. He stood up from where he'd taken a knee in the grass, let his rifle dangle from one hand. He knew Charles and Willa could still turn things to their advantage. "I'm comin' down. But so help me God, if you hurt one hair on that boy's head, I _will_ send you to Hell faster'n you can blink!"

Micah chuckled again. "I will admit, Morgan, you are a hard man to kill! You _and_ that woman of yours! Now where is she?"

 _"Right here, you son of a bitch!"_ Wilhelmina came at him from the back, clutched at his wrist and wrenched it back away from Jack's head. Her other hand, wielding her hunting knife, plunged the blade through his leather jacket into the soft muscle of his lower back. "Jack, _run!"_

Jack pulled himself from Micah's grasp just as sounds of a struggle started emanating from the shack at the end of the pier behind them.

Micah twisted in pain, arching his back and almost dropping the revolver. He growled and spun around, caught Wilhelmina in the face with his elbow and sent her reeling.

 _"Wilhelmina!"_ Arthur had just gotten down to the shoreline beside John, stopped short as he realized what was happening; he skidded in the sand and almost lost his balance before swinging the rifle up to aim it in an old and all-too-familiar reflex.

Willa's knife clattered to the wooden boards and bounced over the edge of the pier. She cursed as she took a faltering step backwards, one hand splayed across her face protectively. She used the other hand to go for the volcanic at her hip, but Micah was fast. He'd already started to lunge, catching her around the neck with his arm and spinning her so that she was in the same position Jack had occupied only moments before.

He chuckled and wheezed and then hissed in her ear, unable to fully escape the sharp burn of the wound in his back. "Ah, you always did think you was _so_ sneaky, didn't you, Wilhelmina?" He quickly holstered his six shooter in favor of reaching around to yank her pistol from its place at her hip, thumbing the hammer and shoving the barrel up against her ear as she clawed at the arm he had locked around her throat. "Well, you ain't the only one who's full of surprises..."

 _"Wha-?"_ she croaked through clenched teeth, almost reared her leg up to kick him but thought better of it; she'd acted fast and foolishly and let herself be caught off-guard. Her eyes sought Arthur in the darkness that devoured the shoreline, but the click of another hammer being thrown drew her attention off to the left.

There, in the lantern light beside one of the pilings, she saw a bearded figure stepping out from the shadows, having caught Jack by the collar as he'd run for the shore. Her eyes widened and she couldn't help a choked gasp escaping.

"Yes," Micah hissed in her ear, "we just got all manner of folk payin' social calls..."

"Why, Jack...look at you, son," Dutch's arm tensed as the boy tried to struggle free.

 _"Pa!"_

Dutch's gaze flicked up from the boy in his grasp, past the barrel of the old cattleman he held firmly in his other hand to land upon the two men on the shore. "Hello, boys..."

John's hands immediately flew to the revolvers at his hips and he brandished both readily, pointing one at Dutch and the other at Micah. He took a sideways step around Arthur, eyes darting back and forth between the two opposing piers before they finally settled more firmly on Dutch. "Hello, Dutch. Let my son go."

Arthur clenched his jaw, kept his rifle firmly pointed at Micah's sneering face, tried to keep an eye on his wife at the same time, but he couldn't resist his gaze being drawn to their former mentor, soaking in what little bits of the older man he could glean from furtive glances. He felt like he'd suddenly had the wind knocked out of him. "Duutch," he croaked out in an odd, reproachful drawl, "don't tell me this is what it looks like!"

"Oh, it is _exactly_ what it looks like, cowpoke. Dutch and I are teamin' up once more! We got money...and we got _plans!"_ Micah hissed as he tightened his arm around Wilhelmina's throat and herded her toward where the pier split to their left.

John was losing his patience. _"Let the boy go, Dutch!"_ He took a few steps down the shoreline, glanced back toward Micah. He did not enjoy the feeling of being pulled taught like a goddamn bowstring, nerves raw to the point of fraying because he did not know which of them would pull the trigger first. He'd also heard a splash coming from behind the shack on the pier just a few moments before and his stomach turned sickeningly at the thought of Abigail's body being the cause of the sound.

Dutch blinked, looked almost hurt for a moment. "Of course, John," he replied, yielding easily, fingers uncurling themselves from the back of Jack's shirt.

Jack just stood there for a few seconds like a frightened rabbit, trembling, scared to death Dutch would shoot him in the back if he ran for his father and Arthur. He had only vague memories of the man that was their revered leader once upon a time, couldn't exactly remember much past the fear that pervaded their last days in the gang all those years ago. It took a few insistent taps on his shoulder to finally get him moving, and Jack suddenly made for the shore with haste.

Micah's sneer deepened as he watched Jack's shadow disappear from beneath the lantern's light. "Real generous of you, Dutch. See, I was just plannin' on killin' the boy-"

"Fucking _bastard,"_ Wilhelmina hissed from in front of him, writhing in his grasp.

John nodded his head back towards the road behind them when Jack approached, hissing for the boy to get away from the standoff and save his own skin. Having two weapons drawn, he couldn't embrace his son like that; but he _could_ at least try to make sure the kid lived through the damned ordeal, even if the rest of them didn't.

Dutch used the opportunity to draw his second pearl-handled cattleman, pointing a weapon at both Arthur and John. "Ain't generous, Micah. Seems you just never learned how things are supposed to be done." His gaze flicked to Micah and just as quickly one of the guns followed.

A shot cracked through the night. Wilhelmina gasped and flinched, eyes widening in shock after a fine, warm mist sprayed across the side of her face.

"Boys are _off limits._ And I may not have many principles left, but, by God, at least _a few_ still remain," Dutch finished dully, like he was all worn out. He holstered the smoking gun with a decisive movement.

Micah grunted and recoiled from Wilhelmina when the bullet bit into the shoulder of the arm he had her in a choke-hold with. He immediately tried to rally himself, raised her volcanic and pulled the trigger as she stumbled to her hands and knees down on the pier, but one more loud crack rocked the darkened cove at almost the exact same time.

As soon as she'd thrown herself down, Arthur had taken his shot. The volcanic went off, sent a bullet through the boards only inches from her and then flew from Micah's hand to go spinning backwards with the power of its recoil as soon as his grip on it loosened.

He barked out a harsh sound of pain and doubled over, hissed in a sharp breath and then started laughing again, low and devoid of mirth. "You shot me-"

Three more quick shots from the rifle cut off what Micah was saying and he spun around, mumbled something, spread his hands at his sides, stumbled on unsteady feet and then plummeted over the edge of the pier.

Charles ran out from the shack as soon as the second set of shots started going off out front, having disposed of Micah's lackey and thrown him over the railing into the water. He'd gone back in long enough to give Sadie and Abigail a good once-over, determining they were both okay; he'd produced a hunting knife from his belt and taken a knee in front of Sadie, pulling her to him for a desperate kiss before getting to work cutting through her bindings. When those next gunshots sounded, she'd commanded him to leave the knife with her and get out there to make sure the others were okay.

He rushed around the corner of the shack just in time to see Micah tumbling into the water with a pronounced splash, and then made out Wilhelmina's form hunched over on the pier. He started to run for her when the voices of the other men erupted from the shoreline.

 _"Wilhelmina?!"_ Arthur yelled for her in a voice that was curt and clipped with dread.

"I'm okay!" she called back, trying to quell the trembles wracking her body. She sat back on her heels, reached up hastily to wipe Micah's blood from her face with a sleeve.

At her insistence, knowing she was alright, Arthur swung the rifle in the direction John's guns still pointed. Dutch simply stood there, his other cattleman pointed at the ground, no longer aiming at any of them.

John took a step forward, shifting his weight, flexed his hands around the grips of his guns. "What the hell is this, Dutch!? Huh!? What the _hell_ are you doin' here!?"

There was a pause before Dutch slowly holstered his other cattleman. He took a few steps towards the shore, towards where John and Arthur stood, but stopped short when he heard the hammers of John's revolvers clicking ominously. "Same as you, I suppose, John..."

Dutch slowly put his hands up, spread his fingers in a universal sign that he meant the two of them no harm, as if he hadn't been involved in a four-person standoff just a minute or two before. His dark eyes roved over John, appraising, before making their way to Arthur. The night seemed to fall into a deathly silence as they regarded each other, multitudes going unsaid. "It's...good to see you, son..."

Arthur grit his teeth, hands tightening around the frame of the rifle. Memories flooded him, unbidden but powerful, of the days that were a lifetime ago when he'd still been so young and angry and Dutch, Susan, Hosea and Bessie had been the ones to slowly bring him around from that; the days when their family was small and idealistic and to him, idyllic. And then, chasing the tail of what felt more like a dream, the memories of the gang's last days, of being left for dead by the man standing before him, without even a parting word to ease what he'd been convinced were his last moments on a miserable, hateful bitch of an earth. He felt tears pricking at the corners of his eyes. "Wish I could say the same, Dutch..."

Dutch winced and bowed his head, nodded slightly.

While this exchange was happening, Charles took another step forward and felt his foot land on something. He bent down and picked up the gun he'd stepped on, which he soon recognized as Willa's old volcanic. He made his way to her, helped her to her feet before he heard Sadie call for him from out behind the shack. "You're good?" he asked quietly as he placed the gun into her open palm.

She nodded to him gratefully before pushing his shoulder gently to urge him back towards the shack. "Don't worry about me."

"That's all you got to say, Dutch!? What did you think was gonna happen here?" John pressed again, prodding the wounds, desperate for some kind of clarity on the whole mess. He couldn't bring himself to say thank you for shooting Micah, not when it seemed as though Dutch had been a part of the kidnapping. "You took my _woman!?_ My _son!?"_

 _"Micah_ took your family, John. I had nothin' to do with that, I swear to you. I...when I heard Arthur was alive, I...suppose I figured this was my only chance to see you..."

Willa came up onto the shore beside them then, pistol still firmly gripped in one hand, keeping a close eye on Dutch the whole while. She wasn't sure about John, but she knew Arthur; knew he wouldn't have it in him to do what needed to be done. She didn't trust a word that came out of Dutch van der Linde's mouth, no matter how contrite and enigmatic he tried to sound. They all could have been killed in this foolishness.

"I ain't got much to say no more, John, I..." Dutch let his hands drop, spread them at his sides in a sort of helpless gesture. "I will admit, I came back for the money, but, once I heard Micah's plans, I couldn't..." He trailed off, looked at the three of them remorsefully.

"So this shit was your idea of a, a _what?_ Some kinda heartfelt _family reunion?"_ Arthur questioned sharply as he lowered the rifle ever so slightly. "Jesus Christ, Dutch-"

"It was the _only_ way, son. And that is only becoming more apparent the longer this goes on-"

Wilhelmina raised the volcanic, cut him off. "You don't get to call him that anymore," she said with a sneer and a decisive shake of her head. "Neither of 'em."

Dutch clamped his mouth shut, gaze shifting to her.

Arthur's brow furrowed as he saw the gun go up, as if he'd forgotten both him and John still had weapons drawn. "Sweetheart-"

She glanced over, mouth thinned out into a hard and unforgiving line. "He left you to _die_ , Arthur! He left _both_ of you! Tried to sell me out to my _brother-!"_

"And I just _saved_ your life, Miss-"

She thumbed the hammer on the pistol to rotate a fresh bullet into the chamber, but that second was all Arthur needed to drop his rifle to his side, freeing up one hand. He abruptly reached over and grasped her wrist, pushed it to the side so that the gun aimed out towards the water, sending a bullet to shatter its calm surface with one more thunder-like crack. He gave his wife one stern and somehow apologetic look before turning back. She struggled against him, but he held her wrist firm.

John glanced over at the two of them, startled when the gun went off, but when he saw what Arthur had done his gaze shifted back. "She ain't messin' around. Get out of here, Dutch," he demanded rather weakly, nudging the barrel of one gun towards the darkened road. "I don't think none of us ever wants to see you again."

Dutch frowned. He looked at John for what seemed like a long beat, and then shifted and looked at Arthur. "My boy...?"

Arthur closed his eyes, bowed his head briefly. "He's right. Ain't gonna kill you. _Can't._ But that don't mean you're forgiven." He looked up at Dutch from under the brim of his old gambler. "Some things I can't forgive, Dutch. Some things I can't forget. Now, you'd...best get along," he nodded his head toward the road as he finished.

Dutch's jaw worked beneath the growth of his beard, but finally he dropped his gaze to the ground and nodded almost imperceptibly. A shadow fell over his face that almost seemed darker than the night that engulfed the rest of the world around them. He said nothing else as he turned to walk away, into that darkness.

John holstered his guns after a few silent and careful moments, then immediately turned to look back at the pier. He spied silhouettes out there, Charles and Sadie helping Abigail limp along down the walkway. He cursed and broke into a run to meet them, hollaring over his shoulder as he went, "Jack! It's over!"

Wilhelmina watched Dutch until she couldn't see his silhouette anymore. She winced as she finally noticed the tight grip Arthur still had on her, shifting her gaze to him. "Hey," she nudged him.

He looked up from where he'd bowed his head once more, swallowed thickly as he saw the question in her eyes and in the frown that turned down the corners of her lips. _What the hell was that?_ Blinking, he released his hold on her almost sheepishly. "I—sorry, I didn't—" he muttered and sighed harshly, flustered.

He knew they would have words later about what had just transpired, but right now Sadie and John's family were much more important. He shook his head gently and slung the rifle over his shoulder, pressed his hand against her arm to indicate they should go meet the others. "M'sorry. Let's go."

She was about to follow him when a small sound caught her attention. She whipped her head around to see Jack come sliding down the embankment behind her, almost barreling right into her as the earth turned to sand beneath his feet. She caught him by the arm and kept him upright as she holstered her volcanic, let him go after he gave her a thankful nod. He booked it down onto the pier after Arthur and she let out a tense and exasperated breath as she trailed along behind.

...

The wedding was small; only the eight of them, plus a pastor Uncle had gone to fetch from Blackwater, but it was not wanting in mirth and good cheer. They'd had to wait a few weeks for Abigail's sprained ankle to heal up. John had taken her into town to see a doctor the next day after they'd all returned from Quaker's Cove, her limping badly; however, with a relatively easy recovery schedule delivered onto her by the town physician, he'd rowed her out in a boat some ways onto Flat Iron Lake in an act of sheer spontaneity and asked her to marry him that day, despite his disinclination towards large bodies of water.

After the rescue, Charles and Sadie had sequestered themselves away to have a long talk. Charles couldn't hold back anymore, not when he'd come so close to losing her; he had to tell her all that he'd been feeling, and she knew he spoke the truth just from the way he'd kissed her back in that shack. She hadn't ever thought she'd feel that spark of love and tenderness in her heart ever again, but Charles had proven to her beyond a doubt that there was a trust that had developed between them that could not be ignored or swept aside and miscategorized. Seeing each other again after so long had started something to kindling, and she admitted to him, finally, that she thought she might be ready for it.

Arthur and Wilhelmina did indeed have words about their opposing decisions on how best to deal with Dutch van der Linde. And just like in the past, when they argued with each other, it had given way to haughty self-righteousness and barbed jabs on both their parts. It turned out she still had _a lot_ to say on the subject of old friend Dutch, and Arthur was forced to hear all of it. Loudly. Along with everyone else who was in the house at the time. Wilhelmina spent the rest of that night outside, camped in Sadie's tent since she'd decided to abandon hers in favor of sleeping with Charles.

They didn't speak for almost a full day. It wasn't until she'd settled in to spend a second night outside that he finally came to her, sorrowful and apologetic for letting her stew in her own anger for so long. He hadn't kicked her out of John and Abigail's guest room, he never would have done that; but he _had_ given Willa hell for acting so recklessly and almost getting herself killed, and she'd stormed out of the house with nothing but a few colorful words for him trailing in her wake. But all Arthur had to do was really _think_ about the way Micah'd had her dead to rights, her own pistol pointed at her head; one single shot to deal a fatal blow at point-blank range, and that would have been the end of it, the end of the life they'd worked so hard to build together.

And just like that, he'd barreled out of the house in nothing but his long johns, crammed himself down in through the flaps of Sadie's tent to settle himself right into the crook of Wilhelmina's neck as she sat up with a gasp of fright at the sudden commotion. She'd almost burst into tears as soon as she realized what was happening, hooked her arms around his neck and apologized for being a hypocrite; she had no right to be mad at him for stopping her shooting Dutch when she hadn't even had the balls to shoot her own brother all those years ago out by Hanging Dog. Family was family, for better or worse, bound by blood or otherwise, and sometimes that was just how things were.

She wanted Dutch dead for the atrocities he'd committed and the suffering he'd caused, that was the undeniable truth, but the simple fact of the matter was that Arthur mattered _more_ than the outrage and bitterness she still held onto in her heart on his behalf. They'd come through the other side of the ordeal alive, Arthur had made his decision, and she had to accept it. They'd both agreed long ago that neither wanted a life of bloodshed any longer, constantly on the run. So far, they had made that dream into a reality, and it was up to both of them to make sure that the ugly business with Micah would be the true and final end of it.

They made up and made love outside that night, stayed up into the early morning hours confiding in each other their concerns over what it all meant moving forward. Had Micah still been in contact with the Pinkertons? If he was, they'd certainly be checking in on him eventually. If he was, did they know about the Blackwater money? Charles and Arthur had hauled the trunk full of cash and gold bars out of one of the old shacks down at Quaker's Cove after a search of the premises, splitting it up between various saddlebags to tote it all back to Beecher's Hope. Dutch had seemingly left it all behind without much of a fuss, which ultimately left them with even more questions than answers.

Arthur finally got the chance to take Jack out, just the two of them, before the wedding. The kid was pretty shaken, so they didn't stray too far from Beecher's Hope to go fishing, just down to the closest bend of the Upper Montana. He was surprised when Jack opened up to him almost readily once they'd been down there for an hour or so baiting lines and intermittently playing fetch with Rufus; told Arthur about the bounty hunters his father had killed before Abigail had taken him and left John and the Geddes' ranch behind. He'd asked Arthur if they were really safe.

It was this question that jostled all of Arthur's fears for the Marstons, and for himself and Wilhelmina, into place. _Were_ they safe? John had chosen to settle in _Blackwater_ of all places, and he had obviously been sloppy giving his name out, potentially to other people besides that loan officer. And now Arthur learned there had been bounty hunters. It was clear that it wasn't safe for them here.

After John and Abigail said their vows and glasses of good wine and slightly better whiskey were poured and shared around, Arthur pulled John aside under the pretense of lighting up a celebratory cigar. He made his way toward the livestock pen at a liesurely pace, bit off the end of his stogie and spit it to the ground before producing a matchbook from the pocket of his suit pants.

"Well, Marston, congratulations. She's made an honest man of you, now," Arthur commented as he struck a match and held it out for John to light his own cigar.

John snorted and the little flame immediately snuffed out. He remained bent slightly forward, waved a hand at Arthur haughtily, as if to say _produce another, posthaste._

Arthur chuckled and obliged him, and the second time was the charm. John straightened up, took a few deep puffs to make sure the cigar had lit, and leaned back against the fence to watch the others laughing and dancing to the tune of Uncle's banjo. "She's made me into... _somethin_ ', I guess," he finally replied with a raspy chuckle and a shrug of his shoulders.

His gaze lingered on Abigail, who was caught up in some kind of boisterous conversation with Wilhelmina while Sadie and Charles danced behind them. She caught his gaze briefly, her laugh resounding like bells on the dry, hot breeze, and gave him a little wave of her fingers. He smirked and nodded back to his bride, stuck the cigar between his teeth and wagged an eyebrow, trying to be coy.

Arthur scoffed as he got his own cigar lit, tossing the third match off into the dirt. "You know, Marston. I been thinkin'..."

John blinked and pulled his gaze away from Abigail to look over at Arthur. His eyes narrowed a bit roguishly. "You? _Thinkin'?_ Well, I guess crazier things have happened."

Arthur was unphased by his brother's sophomoric but altogether good-natured jab. "Yeah. I'm thinkin', that's a hell of a lot of money we just fell into. A lot of money you could use," he finished slowly, with a certain amount of import.

John's eyebrows went up and he shrugged again, toyed with the cigar between his fingers. "Sure. Get the land paid off. Buy some more livestock. Turn this place into a real, workin' ranch."

Arthur leaned on his elbows over the fence, looked past their horses off toward the prairie that stretched for miles behind Beecher's Hope. "Pay off the land, sure. And then...get the hell outta here, John..."

John froze in the middle of puffing on his cigar. He coughed out some smoke, wincing at the burn it left in his throat. Turning and smacking one hand on the fence, he leaned down almost conspiratorially closer. "What the hell'd you just say?"

Arthur frowned and finally angled his head to look at Marston, blue-green eyes squinted slightly in the afternoon sun, but serious all the same. "You heard me. You signed your name on them loan papers. It ain't safe for you out here, John. It ain't safe for her, or the boy," he emphasized with a small nod back toward the rest of their wedding party.

John was silent for a few long beats. He turned fully, clamped both hands over the fence railing. "But-"

"I can't make you do nothin' you don't want to, John. I ain't your nursemaid. I am just...just tryin' to tell you how it is. Blackwater, West Elizabeth, hell, this whole half of the _goddamn country._ They still remember our names! Just 'cause you've tried to clean up your act don't mean they've forgotten about you, or forgiven you, or _any_ of us."

"Easy for you to say, Morgan. Papers all wrote you off as dead," John came back at him with some venom.

"You got any idea how bad I wanted to go back west!? It was all I thought about for _years_ , Marston! But I knew it weren't ever gonna happen. Not for me, not for who I was and what I done," Arthur argued as he reached up to tap two fingers against his chest. "So I went east instead, changed my name all the same. And we got _land_ up there; full of goddamn pines and pricker bushes, but we ain't _bothered_ by nobody..."

John scoffed somewhat mirthlessly, eyed the cigar tucked between his fingers before throwing it like a dart into the dirt at their feet. "You want me to tuck my tail between my legs and follow after you, that it? _Little Johnny Marston,_ still ain't even man enough take care of his family!"

 _"Keep your goddamn temper,"_ Arthur hissed back at him. "If _Micah_ found you out here, how long you think it'll be before them Pinkertons come sniffin' around!? _You signed your goddamn name on them bank papers, John!"_ Arthur pushed himself from the fence, straightened up to his full height and squared up to his brother.

After a moment he sighed, seemed to deflate a little and spread his hands at his sides. "You ain't gotta _follow me._ Just think about what I'm sayin', is all. I know this place was Abigail's dream, but don't you think she'll compromise if it means keepin' the three of you safe?"

John planted his hands on his hips, chewed his lip as he tried to let go of some of his frustration. Part of why he'd gotten so damn riled up in the first place was because he knew that Arthur was right; he just still hated admitting it. "I guess, maybe she would, I don't know."

He sighed and cast his gaze across the pen, over the barn and the house slowly. "It's just...shit, I don't know...we was tryin' to make a home here, Arthur. _I_ was tryin' to make a home. And we got Uncle now, and _he's_ certainly made himself comfortable."

Arthur shrugged ambivalently, unconcerned. "That money would take care of makin' you another home, somewhere nobody knows you. The most important thing is you got Jack 'n Abigail with you, and keepin' them safe. And I just...just want you to know you're welcome with us, _if_ you find yourselves so inclined. And that's _all_ of you; Uncle, Sadie and Charles, too."

Arthur took a step closer. "Willa 'n I chewed it over already; she is in agreement with me on this, John. You're _family."_ He angled his head, reached out and put a hand on John's shoulder. "I don't care where you go, so long as you're smart about it. But I know Wilhelmina would enjoy havin' some old friends around; havin' another boy around, too. And, well...I would be inclined to agree."

John paused as Arthur patted his shoulder a couple times. He glanced back at the others briefly, furrowed his brows. Finally he sighed in a deep and sort of existential way. "I'll think about it. Okay?"

Arthur used his hand to nudge John back in the direction of the small wedding party, nodded his head once as they started walking. "That's all I ask."

...

It took almost six months for Pinkerton detectives to piece together the circumstances surrounding Micah Bell's disappearance. He'd promised them not only the notorious Dutch van der Linde, but a few other surviving members of The van der Linde Gang he'd begun tracking down as well. That is, until his bloated corpse turned up two miles east of Quaker's Cove, dragged up in a fisherman's trawl one rainy and blustery day.

They traced his gang back to the Cove, and from there to the robbery of the West Elizabeth Co-Operative Bank, and _that_ was how they stumbled across another name that was of particular importance to them, high up on their list of van der Linde triggermen as it was. The coincidence was too much to pass up.

When Agent Edgar Ross and his retinue finally rode up to Beecher's Hope, they found the property abandoned. Squatters had taken up residence in the relatively new ranch house and its outbuildings, even torn some of it apart, but they were drunk and half-starved and extremely ornery; Ross later claimed he had no choice but to have his men put them all down.

Other than the name tied to the land deed, there was no sign of the man who owned the property, or that which might indicate what became of him. He'd paid off his debts in less than a year, took the title to the place and promptly vanished.

Meanwhile, Mr. and Mrs. Arthur Mason were quite busy getting his brother's family settled in for an extended stay at their little cottage on Lake Carmi. Vermont was a long way from West Elizabeth, and by the time the plans had finally been settled and the travel taken care of, it was much too late in the year to begin construction on what would become 'Jim' and 'Anna' Mason's new home.

They were forced to wait out the bitter winter months together, sharing warmth and stories to chase away the dark and the cold. Early in the spring of 1908, money was put down on another plot of land adjacent to Arthur and Wilhelmina's, and the building began in earnest.

Not quite a year later Sadie and Charles found out they were going to be parents, and this prompted them to try their luck back east as well; she couldn't keep hunting bounties as she was, and they both liked the idea of raising their baby with family nearby. The Mason compound was expanded even further, along with the stables and the fields.

With more folk to help tend the small farm they'd started, Arthur was free to pursue his woodworking almost full-time; he honed the craft, sold many of his pieces, and became something of an established fixture among the craftsmen's guilds in the northern part of the state. None of them would have guessed he was the same man wanted dead or alive in at least four states west of the Lanahechee, and that was certainly how he preferred it.

Wilhelmina took over most of the responsibility for the stables when Arthur was caught up in the world of his workshop; she began breeding Percy out as a stud, and got a thriving boarding business set up, besides. John turned out to be surprisingly good with keeping track of their numbers, once given the chance and the responsibility, and the two of them managed a decent profit despite the lack of need for it.

A year and a half later, Abigail gave birth to a beautiful raven-haired baby girl. Wilhelmina found herself spending a lot of time with the kids, helping where she could; she liked the babies a lot more than she ever thought she would, and it made her heart swell to see both of her friends thriving in motherhood. Sadie especially, being a new mother and all, seemed to take to it with a natural ease that almost astonished her, given how wild Sadie had been when they'd first met.

Sam came home to visit whenever he was on shore leave over the next few years, and he couldn't help marveling at the changes every time he got back; he spent large swaths of time catching up with Jack, meeting what were effectively his baby second and third cousins, regaling the rest of them with tales from the sea. The older folks would grin amongst themselves sometimes when he said something that sounded particularly reminiscent of another old Navy sailor they'd once known.

The normal trials and challenges of life never escaped them, but for what it was worth, they were safe up there in the woods just south of the Canadian border. The Pinkertons never showed up in a hail of vengeful gunfire, knocking down their doors. In fact, Charles read in the newspaper one day years later that Edgar Ross had actually been gunned down in a standoff with Dutch van der Linde somewhere back in West Elizabeth. Good riddance, they all said.

And life went on, as it has a way of doing.


End file.
